Illogical
by PoisonLipz
Summary: After finding herself in a rather unsettling predicament, Rosemary must assist an eccentric, but genius, detective and his valiant partner in solving various crimes around London, all the while trying to discover the clues to her own mystery. Holmes X OC
1. Awakened

My mind was blank. It was cloudy and full of thoughts and images I couldn't make out. Everything in my mind was scrambled, and I was unable to put them in correct order so that I could sort it all out. It took all the energy I had to try and figure out what happened and where I was, but not one logical thought would place itself within my mind. It was as if my mind was stuck in vertigo

I tried opening my eyes and quickly regretted it, seeing as how that small action made my head ache immensely. I slowly moved my hand and placed it over my eyes, which felt like it had been doused with an great amount of sea water, a tiny groan escaping my lips in the process. The movement caused me to feel the soft material that I was currently resting on. It was rather soft… it was satin. No, maybe silk. Possibly both.

"I think… finally coming…"

For the first time since my consciousness had decided to return, I heard a voice. All I was able to find out was that this person was definitely male, but an unfamiliar one as far as I knew. It was hard sine I wasn't able to make out much of anything. It was as if a thick cloud was surrounding my head and blocking off all of my senses. It irritated me greatly that I was unaware of the situation I was in and, basically, helpless. The only thing I could do was hope and pray that I was in no potential danger and no harm would come to me.

I slowly slipped my hand off my eyelids and laid it on top of my stomach. Suddenly, a warm, gentle hand was placed on the left side of my head, two fingers being placed upon the flesh on my neck, right above my collar bone. I quickly came to the conclusion that he must be checking my pulse rate. If not, then I would have to wake up soon and reprimand this person for putting their hands on me.

"Good news. Her pulse rate is back to normal."

"That is wonderful news, indeed," a new voice piped up.

'_Back to normal? What happened to me?'_

The hand that was previously at my neck now moved to my forehead, pulling the bangs out of my face in the process, probably checking to see if I had contracted any illnesses from… whatever it was that had happened to me.

"She does have a temperature. Nothing too serious, though."

I stirred slightly from underneath the silk-blend sheets I was currently encased in. It was rather hard to do, and even though I had to do it slowly, I managed to open my eyes _almost_ halfway. I was surprised that I was even able to open it as far as I did.

"Finally awake, I see," the voice I had been listening to announced. My eyes slowly looked to the right, finally getting a good look at the unidentifiable man sitting in a chair that was next to the bed I was currently occupying.

The first thing I was able to notice was his light blue eyes. Concern and kindness was evident in his crystal irises. His jaw line was very defined and sharp. His hair was short and a light shade of brown. A small mustache graced the space in between his upper lip and his nose. He was a very handsome man, indeed. He was dressed in a crisp, white pinstriped shirt with brown braces that were slung over his shoulders. As my eyes traveled lower, I was able to see the grey trousers that were being held up by the braces. I watched the small smile that graced his lips as he watched me examine him from head to toe.

"Where am I?" I tried to ask, but it came out very raspy and scratchy from the abundance of sleep that I had seemingly received.

"There is no need to worry yourself, Madame. You're safe here with us."

'_With us? So there's more than one…'_

"How can I be certain of that, Sir? I mean," I slowly hoisted myself up on the soft mattress, resting my back on the headboard, closing my eyes in the process, "I haven't the faintest idea of where I am or who you are. For all I know, you could be a serial killer who has kidnapped me and is feigning innocence while carefully and secretly plotting my demise," I finished, focusing my gaze back to the man, who had a inquisitive look on his face.

"Of course, that _is_ only one, possible theory," I finished, a blasé expression on my face and a small smirk playing at the corner of my mouth.

"Well, it seems she's figured you out, Watson," an amused voice said from the other side of the room. The man, who I now assumed was 'Watson,' rolled his eyes before directing his attention back to me. I wanted to turn around and see who the voice belonged to, but I feared any sudden movement would send me into comatose state.

"I assure you, Milady, I am a professional and certified doctor. Nothing more, and nothing less," he replied, his hand gently took a hold of my chin so that I could look at him. He brought up his other hand and moved it in front of my face. Naturally, I followed his finger as he moved it around slowly at first, then speeding up the movements. My brows furrows as I tried to keep up, but I found it an increasingly difficult task to complete, which irritated me greatly. I pulled away and rubbed my eyelids with my index and thumb finger.

"Your pupils are slightly dilated… you could barely keep up with my finger," the doctor mused quietly. He reached for my cheek, and I instinctively pulled away from his reach. I rubbed my cheek and was surprised to feel a sharp stinging sensation at the spot. I lightly ran two fingers against the spot, wincing when I came in contact with the more sensitive spot. _'Why is there a bruise on my cheek? How did this happen?'_

"I'm not going to hurt you," he reassured me soothingly. I exhaled softly, placing my hand in my lap and leaned forward, allowing him to continue with his examination. "I just want to check something…" He reached for me cautiously this time, one warm hand carefully holding the left side of my cheek while the other felt around my forehead, which caused me to wince in response. He took notice to this as he slowly traveled from my forehead to my scalp. I quickly withdrew and let out a small groan when his hand landed on a particularly sensitive spot.

"I apologize. You have a rather large lump on your scalp, and a small incision at your hairline. Madame, would you mind telling me your name?"

"My name… my… I'm…" I narrowed my eyes as I stared back at the doctor, my mind completely blank. I looked down at my hands, unable to comprehend what was happening to me at that moment.

'_What in the world is wrong with me? Why can't I remember something as simple as my own name? What happened to me? Why is it that I cannot remember a single event prior to me being here? And the lump the doctor noted… was I attacked or something? That has to be the only explanation…"_

"Just as I suspected. The fact that you are unable to divulge your name proves my theory. You have a rather sever case of amnesia brought on by blunt trauma to the head…"

The doctor's words strayed and his eyes found their way to my stomach as I immediately wrapped my hand around the grumbling organ. "Sorry," I muttered softly.

"No need to apologize. It's to be expected," he replied, standing up straight and starting towards the door. "I'll be back with something for you to eat. Maybe with a full stomach, you'll be able to remember something."

"How can I be sure that it won't be poisoned?" I asked sarcastically. I heard him chuckle before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

I let out a sight, closing my eyes and resting my head against the pillow I was previously laying on. I wasn't particularly scared, but I was definitely on edge. From what I have gathered, I was attacked, bludgeoned over the head, and now I cannot remember anything prior to my current situation. I'm in a house with a man I do not know and, quite frankly, wasn't entirely sure I could trust. He seemed to mean well, but I've learned from the past that looks can be very deceiving.

"You have nothing to worry about," a voice spoke from the other side of the room, and I jumped in surprise. I had forgotten about the other gentleman who was currently occupying the room with me. Lifting my head off the bed completely, I sat up and swung my feet off of the bed. It was then that I noticed I was wearing a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black trousers which were being held up by a pair of braces. Although I could not remember anything before now, I was pretty certain that I did not have on this outfit before.

Slowly hopping off the bed, it took me a little more effort than it normally would to steady my footing. Shaking my head to stop the wave of dizziness that had overcome me, I began walking towards where I suspected the voice was coming from. My feet could be heard lightly tapping on the wooden floor. "How can I prove that statement to be true, I wonder?"

"Well, in your case, I would rely on Women's Intuition," he replied as I turned around a corner in the room and came face to face with who I assumed was the doctor's flat mate. He was previously reading the newspaper, but he lowered it upon my arrival, focusing all his attention on me. I could see him inspecting and deciphering me as I did the same to him.

He was much different in appearance than the doctor. Whereas the doctor looked very clean cut and tidy, this man's whole appearance was in disarray. His shaggy black tresses were unkempt and looked as if it hadn't seen a comb in quite a while. His jaw line was fairly sharp, and I could tell that he was well in need of a shave, seeing as how his face wore a rather thick layer of black and grey stubble. I couldn't see the color of his eyes from where I stood, but it looked like it was a dark shade of grayish brown. I watched cautiously as his inquisitive eyes observed my being. I took that time to take notice to his attire. He wore his shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the first couple of buttons opened. His trousers were a darker shade of grey than the doctor's, and the braces hung lazily at his sides instead of on his shoulders where they belonged.

"And what if my intuition is not enough?" I asked, continuing our previous conversation.

He spared me one last glace before directing his attention back to the paper that was in his hand, "Then I guess you would have to rely on your deductive reasoning skills."

I looked at him for a little while longer before turning around. I was about to go and lie back down when he spoke once again.

"Your name is Rosemary McClaire."

I turned back around to face him, clearly interested in what he had to say. "How do you know my name?"

He folded the paper that he was reading and placed it on the table before standing up from the chair he was sitting in. Grabbing something off the coffee table that was next to him, he slowly approached me and outstretched his palm. In it was a shiny, gold, round contraption.

"A pocket watch?" I questioned.

"I found this on you after we brought you back here. Your surname is engraved on the inside. It isn't at all common for women to carry around pocket watches, so I'm pretty sure that it is a family heirloom of some sort," he said, holding the watch and carefully turning the dial on the top. After a few seconds, it clicked open. He outstretched his palm to me once again, and I took the watch out of his hand. I opened it and disregarded the intricate designs as I focused on the engraved letters on the metal lid: McCLAIRE.

"McClaire…" I read, mostly to myself. I didn't even notice that the man had left until I saw him walking back towards me, a small piece of paper in hand.

"This was found on you as well, which is how I discovered your birth name." He handed me the little white paper and I handed him back the watch as I opened the letter and read the contents.

_**Rosemary,**_

_**I have went out to town to run a few errands. I wish to speak with you when I return.**_

I read the words over a few more times, hoping that it would stir some kind of memories for me. I walked around the room a bit, closing my eyes and focusing hard.

'_Rosie, don't you know better than that…'_

'_Miss Rosemary, your Mother would like to have a word with you.'_

'_Miss McClaire, a great pleasure to finally meet you…'_

'_My dear Rosemary, you're even more beautiful than I thought you were.'_

"Were you able to remember anything?"

I opened my eyes as I heard the stranger's voice again. I turned towards where he was now seated on the couch, a violin and bow in his hand. He was sprawled across the couch, one leg lazily hanging over the armrest as the other rested on the floor.

"I'm certain that this is indeed my name. I can recall hearing people say it, but that's about it," I replied, folding the letter and placing it back on the table. At that moment, the doctor came back in the room with a maid right behind him. He held a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and toast in his hand while the maid carried a tray with a pitcher of orange juice and a teapot with teacups.

"I hope this will be enough," he said as he handed me the plate of food. The maid placed the tray on the coffee table that was next to me.

"It's more than enough. Thank you." I sat nest to the coffee table and bit off a piece of bacon.

"What about me, old chap? Did you bring something back for me as well?" the man on the couch asked.

"Get your own food!" the doctor replied as he sat across from me and poured himself out a cup of tea.

The man on the couch sighed and called over the maid. "Agnes, would you mind bringing me up a plate of food? I would appreciate it greatly."

"Of course," the maid replied quickly before leaving the room to fetch the food. The man then placed the violin underneath his chin and began playing a strange tune. It was unorganized and his movements were not sharp, which made the sound irritating to the ears.

"Must you practice that now? Couldn't it wait until I was out of sight?"

"How do you expect me to perfect the skill if I do not practice, Watson?" the guy retorted. I looked in between both of them, taking note of their behavior.

"So… you two are brothers?"

"Why yes we are!" replied the violinist.

"Of course not!" replied the doctor. I furrowed my brow, now confused by their contrasting responses.

"We are not related by blood-"

"Thank the Lord!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"But we might as well be. Brothers by bond, that's what I would call it," replied the black haired man with a small grin. I watched as the doctor rolled his eyes and direct his attention back towards me.

"By any chance, were you able to recall your name?"

"I couldn't at first, but he told me," I said as I gestured to the man on the couch. "After thinking it over for a while, my memories, well, the ones I could remember, at least, confirmed it. It's Rosemary McClaire."

"I see. This is a problem, indeed. Usually, those who suffer from amnesia lose their memories for a short amount of time, but you might not be able to remember anything for a few weeks. Possibly months."

"Why do you say that?"

"According to where those lumps on your head are, the attackers struck you on two parts of your brain. A portion of your frontal lobe and majority of your temporal lobe were affected from the blow, and those are the two regions which hold all your memories. The fact that you couldn't remember your name alone proves my theory," the Doctor explained.

'_That's terrific. As if I wasn't already in a terrible predicament. Now this just tops the bloody cake.'_

"Speaking of names," I spoke up, wanting to change the subject, "you both happen to know my name before I even knew yours. So… is it possible that I could be informed of the names of my rescuers, or possible assailants?" I asked as I took a bite of toast.

The doctor smirked before outstretching his hand to me. "I'm Doctor John Watson."

I shook his hand and nodded, looking towards the other man after I released the doctor's hand. He wasn't looking at me then, we was looking out the window at something I couldn't see.

"Excuse me."

He looked towards me again, an expression on his face that I couldn't read. "Yes?"

"Would you mind telling me your name?"

"No, of course not."

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't say anything after that. "Then what is it?"

"What is what?" he asked, seemingly confused. I furrowed my brows at his response. _Is he serious?_

Watson, as I now knew him as, sighed and rubbed his temple with his hand before gesturing to the irritating man. "This, unfortunately, is my very strange, very odd business partner and friend, Sherlock Holmes."

Holmes placed down the violin and bow, then proceeded to walk in front of where I sat. I looked up at him as he stared down at me. After a few seconds, he outstretched his hand, which caused me to raise a curious eyebrow.

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Milady." I willingly grabbed his outstretched hand and shook it.

"The pleasure is all mine… I suppose."


	2. Absence Unknown

_**I'd like to take this time to thank everyone who reviewed, messaged and alerted or favorited this story. It means a lot to me. Anywho, on to Chapter 2. Enjoy!**_

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I sat with my legs crossed on the wooden floor, tons of papers sprawled all around me. They were a bunch of recent newspaper as well as some from the past week. I was looking for any kind of clue, any sort of indication that would help me discover something about my current situation. At times I felt like a newborn baby. I felt clueless, ignorant, oblivious and naïve to everything around me.

Every second that passed by was another second of me getting mad at myself. I was frustrated and irritated. Every few minutes, I would pick up the pocket watch that was found on me and rub it vigorously between my palms, as if willing it to send me some of my memories back. I could see Holmes and Mr. Watson sending me curious stares every time I did it. Maybe Watson could send me stares, but Holmes certainly had no right to talk.

Holmes, as he had instructed me to call him, was probably the most peculiar person I could have ever _remembered_ meeting. Everything about him was so… off. Sometimes, I would find him locked in his room, engulfed in darkness, working on some sort of abnormal experiment. He would perform dangerous actions on himself just to see the effects it had on the human body. It was no doubt that Holmes was a _very_ strange man, but I suppose that was what made him so intelligent. At least, that was what Mr. Watson told me on more than one occasion…

"_Can you please talk to him and tell him to stop before he ends up killing himself?" I pleaded. I had just walked into Holmes's room and found him hung from the ceiling by his feet, upside down. When I asked him what he was doing, he responded by saying…_

"_**I am simply trying to see how long the human body could remain in this position before the blood rushes down to the head, submerging the brain in its own blood, stopping its oxygen supply and ultimately ending the life of that human being."**_

_The doctor rubbed his temples and sighed. "I can assure you, even though his methods may seem-"_

"_Insane? Idiotic? Stupid?!" I interrupted._

"_Unorthodox… he is no fool. If he knew he was intentionally putting his life in danger, then he wouldn't do some of the things he does. He is not always like this," Watson explained to me._

"_Well what can be done to change this? His ridiculous shenanigans are making me nervous and anxious," I informed him._

"_Simple. If he gets a case, he'll stop."_

"_You mean a case to solve?"_

"_Precisely… and thanks to your current situation, he just might have one."_

Yes, my predicament had possibly became a case that would be solved by the detective. I wasn't exactly happy about my situation being considered a case, but hopefully he would be able to discover what exactly took place the day I was attacked. It would have been easier for him if I was able to remember what happened to me before I was attacked, but that was a lost cause. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember.

"Does anyone mind if I open the window? Maybe some fresh air will clear my head." Holmes, Watson and myself sat inside Holmes's personal study, which, much like his appearance, was unorganized and untidy. Books of all sorts were scattered all over the place. Papers, news articles and what appeared to be mug shots decorated the walls of the room. There were many tiny tables around the room that held various books, papers and writing utensils. The air was cloudy and made me wonder how it was possible to breath in such a toxic environment. The curtains were closed and only allowed a minimal amount of light to penetrate the room.

"Go right ahead," replied Watson, who sat at one of the many tables, filling out some kind of medical form.

"I mind. It is my room, after all," Holmes replied right after. "With all do respect, Miss McClaire, if you are still unable to regain your memories at this point, then I doubt a greater supply of oxygen will help."

I frowned at his response, his comment upsetting me a bit. I saw Watson look up from his work and send me a sorrowful gaze. I hastily rose from my spot on the floor and walked up to the curtains. I quickly pulled them open and let the sunlight engulf the room. I heard a groan escape Holmes's mouth, which gave me great pleasure. I then proceeded to open the window and allowed a gust of wind to enter the room. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh autumn air. Reopening my eyes, I looked up at the overcast sky that covered the city of London.

"Was I not clear enough, Miss McClaire?" Holmes asked, diverting his attention from the paper in his hand to me.

"I heard you crystal clear, Mr. Holmes." Yes, even though instructed to call him _Holmes_, I always call him _Mr. Holmes_, just to irritate him. "However, would you have replied with a more respectful answer, I just might have obliged. You didn't have to be rude about it." I walked back to where the papers were sprawled on the floor and plopped myself down. I pulled my bangs out of my face before focusing my direction back onto the matter at hand.

"I simply stated facts. I didn't in any way say anything that should have negatively affected you."

"London's greatest detective, yet he's as dense as a doornail," I muttered. It was loud enough for both of them to hear, and it caused Watson to chuckle in response. Holmes, however, gave me a rather scrutinizing look.

"I believe the correct term is 'dead as a doornail, Miss McClaire," Holmes corrected.

"I don't care what the correct term is," I said in a mocking voice. "The fact of the matter is you're dense. I'm aware of the situation I'm in. I'm aware that you can't help me unless I remember something. But unless I try, I'll never get anywhere, will I?"

"Maybe I should have done a background check on you before I let you take up residence in my home," I heard Holmes muse. "It isn't uncommon for people to somehow stage a fake attack upon themselves. They pretend to be severely injured and they wait for someone to find them. They convince their rescuer that they remember noting in an attempt to make their rescuer pity them and take them into their home. Then, within time, they gradually gain their trust and form a rather strong bond with said rescuer. Next thing you know, the rescuer come back to their house one day and find that they've been robbed blind and the victim in question is nowhere in sight."

"Wow. That just might be the biggest load of bollock I have ever heard. If that were true, then how would-" I stooped mid sentence, a thought suddenly crossing my mind. '_Within time. Time…how long have I been here?'_

"Mr. Watson, how many days did it take before I woke up?"

"You were comatose for three and a half days."

"And upon finding my body… If you had to make an estimate, how long would you say I had been there, before you found me?"

"I would say three… maybe three and a half hours. Why?"

I quickly scribble down the information that I had received before asking my next question. "What was the date? And the time?"

"October 15th, 6:33 in the evening," Holmes answered this time.

"Today is October 27th…how come there hasn't…"

"Yes?" Holmes insisted. Knowing him, he already knew exactly what I was thinking, but he wanted me to state it instead of having him reveal it.

"Do you happen to have all the papers from October 15th to today?"

Holmes quickly handed me his paper before disappearing from my sight. "If I'm correct, the paper tells of all the disappearances and missing persons every day, right?" I asked Watson.

"That is correct." I could see the bolts working in his head as well as I hastily scanned the paper from today. A minute later, Holmes returned with a stack of papers in his hand. He quickly discarded them next to me and took a seat in the chair that stood a few feet away. I ignored the stare that I could feel him giving me and checked the missing person's section of every old paper.

After about ten minutes of looking and triple checking, I ran a hand through my hair, mulling over the new piece of information I had discovered. Grabbing the pocket watch I had discarded on the floor, I stood and walked over to the window, shutting my eyes as I rubbed the smooth trinket in my hand once more, silently begging it to send me some of my memories back. I opened my eyes as another thought dawned upon me.

"Where was I found?"

"Croydon. A city in South London," Holmes replied.

"Which is basically next to the London and Croydon Railway. My assailant, whomever they are, could have easily carried out the task of getting rid of me and hopped the train," I explained as I walked away from the window and leaned on the edge of one of the tables, deep in thought. "Croydon is also a very populated town. It would have been impossible to just attack me out in the open…"

"But you weren't out in the open. We found you unconscious in an alleyway that was near the railway. The way I see it, you were either forced to get off of the train at the Croydon stop because of some unforeseen circumstances, or asked to rendezvous at that place with someone you already know."

"The second one would be more likely. As far as I know, I have never traveled to Croydon before. I don't see why I would have started then."

"Well that's good. At least we have something now," Watson stated.

"Greenwich. That's where I live. Greenwich is north of Croydon. It's a rather large distance apart from each other. Why would they go through all that trouble? And why leave my seemingly dead body in such a crowded area where it is most likely to be found?"

"That is true. The whole thing seems rather sloppy, don't you think, Holmes?"

"Not necessarily," Holmes replied. "They may not have been trying to hide the body. Their plan may have been to dispose of you in a crowded and run down area. This way, the number of suspects can increase greatly. As for the trouble they went through, they obviously didn't want people finding out about it."

"It's either someone in your family or someone who knows you very well," Watson stated.

"It is," I agreed. "I have been out of Greenwich for approximately twelve days. If I was attacked by a stranger, then there is no doubt that my family would have alerted the authorities by this point in time."

"You sound quite certain," Holmes pointed out.

"I am. I'm positive my Father would have sent out a search party by now. He would have alerted every paper in London of my disappearance…" I said. This was good and bad for me. It was good because now, even though I don't have the whole story behind my attack, I had some sort of lead. However, the bad news made my stomach turn…

Someone I knew very well wanted me dead.

My eyes scanned the room and I grabbed the brown coat that lay on a nearby chair. Quickly slipping it on, I started my search for my pair of shoes.

"What are you doing?" Watson asked.

"I'm going to Croydon."

"I can't allow you to do that," Holmes stated.

"Yes you can. Maybe if I go and I see something, then it'll awaken something in my brain and allow me to recall some of my memories."

"It is extremely dangerous for you to go back to the place where you were almost killed. What if someone is there and they recognize your face? That won't bode well for you at all."

"He has a point. Although it is important to find out what happened, your safety must come first," Watson agreed.

"Well, it's not like anyone will be able to recognize me while I'm dressed like this. All I need is a walking stick and a hat to hide my face and I'll be fine," I assured them. I still hadn't gotten a hold of my dress, so I've been wearing trousers and shirts since I've been there.

"You're not leaving this residence," Holmes stated.

"Is that so?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Yes it is. I forbid you to leave."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, rea-"

Before he could finish, I dashed towards the door and threw it open. I could hear his shuffling form from behind, but I tried to ignore it and focused on the task at hand. I dashed across the hall towards the stairs that would lead to the front door. Just as I had started descending the first flight of stairs, I suddenly felt a hand around my wrist and something tripping me, knocking me off balance and causing me to fall to my knees. My left hand was supporting my weight while the other hand was twisted behind my back. He held my hand without inflicting any pain on it, but it was upsetting nonetheless.

"I apologize, Miss McClaire, but this was the only option left. Allowing you to go outside would be allowing you to walk right back into your captor's hand. The culprit may still be in Croydon and he may be looking for you already," Holmes explained, slightly out of breath.

"I thought I was supposed to be dead. Why would they be looking for me if they think I'm already dead?!"

"I don't know, but we can't risk letting someone see your face and return to finish the job."

"So what are you saying? I'll never be able to leave this building? Are you planning on keeping me prisoner until we find out who tried to kill me?"

"If that is what is necessary, then that is what will be done," he replied. After a moment, I let out a pitiful sigh and relaxed my body. Seeing this as a sign of defeat, he slowly released his grip on my wrist. _Perfect._

Before he could react, I slid my leg underneath his and caused him to lose his balance. I quickly grabbed both his wrists and pinned him to the wall before he could regain his composure.

"_I_ apologize, Mr. Holmes, but this was _my_ only option. I appreciate the fact that you're trying to protect me, I really do… but I need to find out who tried to kill me and I won't be able to do it if I'm confined in this house. I understand I'm still in potential danger-"

"No I don't think you do!" he interrupted.

"I do… but I'll have to take risks in order to solve this. Isn't that what you do on a daily basis?"

"What you are trying to do is much different than what I do."

"How so?"

Before he could respond, I slid my leg under his for the second time, which caused him to fall on his side. Not wasting any time, I dashed down the second flight of stairs and dashed around the railing, towards the kitchen. '_If I'm not mistaken, there's an alternate exit in the kitchen. If I can make it there, then-'_

I let out a gasp as I felt something grab my leg and caused me to fall onto the ground. I made an attempt to crawl, but Holmes was a _very_ persistent man. He pulled both my legs back. Before I could even try to fight back, he grabbed me by the waist and flung me over his shoulder. By now, I was flailing all over the place and the maids and cooks in the house had stopped their work to see what all the commotion was about.

"Everything's all right. Just a bit of misunderstanding, that's all," Holmes informed the workers as he began ascending up the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes! Put me down this instant! This is no way to treat a lady! I'm warning you… I am going to make you suffer greatly. PUT ME DOWN!!"

He ignored every word that came out of my mouth and walked back into the room. Watson eyed the scene curiously, a small smirk on his lips. I flailed around for a bit longer before letting out a gasp as Holmes threw me onto the sofa, exhaling shortly afterwards.

"You know, I don't think I've ever met anyone quite as stubborn as yourself, Miss McClaire," Holmes stated as he leaned against one of the tables, reaching for his pipe.

"You know, I should have you turned in to the authorities for manhandling me," I stated as I stood up from the couch and folded my arms across my chest. "I honestly don't see why I can't leave. What good is going to come from me staying in this house?"

"Well let's see. I don't know… maybe it's the fact that you _won't_ die?" he retorted before lighting his pipe and taking a puff.

"Dr. Watson, please enlighten me. Sherlock Holmes is a name known widely around London for his amazing intellect and deductive skills. Now, wouldn't that put him in potential danger every time he steps outside, seeing as how criminals of all sorts would want him dead in order to prevent him from interfering with any of their present or future plans?"

"Yes, I suppose that would be true."

"Okay then. So how is that different from me venturing outside? I am less known and less susceptible to identification, thus making me less susceptible to danger. Am I right or wrong?"

"Well-"

"You are wrong," Holmes interrupted. "You are still forgetting the fact that your life was threatened for no apparent reason at all. When my life is threatened, it is because I interfere and try to stop a greater evil. Besides, I am a man. The mere fact that you are a woman and the reason I previously stated makes you much more susceptible to danger than I."

"Huh. Kind of a sexist comment, don't you think?"

"That was basically stating fact. Naturally, the male is more stronger than the female-"

"Then how come you couldn't stop me when we were on the stairs?" I asked smugly.

"You caught me completely off guard with that move," he defended immediately.

"Excuses, excuses," I said, waving off his explanation.

"Wait a minute! What happened on the stairs?" Watson asked this time.

Before anyone had a chance to speak again, our attentions were directed towards the door as a man came bursting in, looking frantic and panicked. Just by looking at his attire, I was able to ascertain that he was a part of the police force. Scotland Yard police, if I wasn't mistaken.

"Mr. Holmes!" he started, but upon seeing Mr. Watson and myself, he stopped to greet us. "Dr. Watson. Madame."

"What is it now, Clarkey?" Holmes asked, clearly not wanting to waste any time.

"The Inspector wishes to see you immediately."

"About?"

"Something that's been stolen. Sir."

"Surely Lestrade should be able to solve such a petty crime on his own, despite the lackadaisicalness of the Yard."

"Well, it's not so much the act sir… it's what's been stolen. It's a piece from a museum."

"Which museum?"

"The Royal Armouries. In the Tower of London, sir."

"The most valuable items that are stored in the Armouries are the Crown Jewels of England," Watson mused.

"Yes, but that wasn't what was stolen," the Constable explained.

I furrowed my brows, watching as Holmes and Watson exchanged glances. _'The Crown Jewels are by far the most valuable article in the Tower. Why would the culprits steal anything less?_

"That is a very interesting fact," Holmes stated. Watson nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps we should go and take a look at this," Watson announced.

"Indeed."

'_Yes… if Holmes and Watson go and investigate this … then I'll be able to leave the house without any interruption,'_ I though to myself. A smirk threatened to find my lips, but I controlled myself. My eyes, which had been staring into space while I was thinking, darted to Holmes's face. I was surprised to see him staring at me so intently. I blinked before addressing him. "Yes? What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, suddenly turning away from me. "Well Watson, I say this deserves a bit of investigating, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed. The situation is most peculiar."

"May I come along?"

All three man directed their attention towards me, Holmes observing me more than the other two. "I'd like to see what this whole thing is about as well. Besides, you'll need all the help you can get," I explained.

"I don't see a problem with that," Watson replied. I nodded my thanks and waited for Holmes to answer. _'He wouldn't want me to go out regardless, so he'll most likely disagree, then I'll have no problem venturing out when they're gone.'_

"I don't see any problem with that."

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"I said I'm fine with you going along, Miss McClaire. Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, and I could see a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

'_Why that conniving, pig headed arse!'_

"Of course that's what I wanted. I'm just surprised that you actually agreed to it, is all."

"Oh, very well then. I'm off to go change. Watson, Miss McClaire and myself will meet you downstairs in a few minutes Clarkey," he finished as he walked out the study to go and change. The constable gave one last bow before heading back downstairs. With that, I dropped back onto the sofa and let out a loud, frustrated sigh.

"I'm assuming you didn't actually want to come along with Holmes and I?" Watson asked, and I could hear the laughter in his voice.

"No… I wanted Holmes to object, that way I could leave after the two of you were gone," I sighed.

"I must warn you, Holmes is not that easy to trick. He could read anyone he wanted like a book. He's able to tell if someone is lying just by studying their face. That's most likely how he discovered your true intentions," he replied as he rose from the chair and grabbed his coat.

"Yes, he is quite the brilliant detective, isn't he," I said as I got off the couch and found my black boots that were laying in the corner of the room. "That only gives me reason to hate him more!" I said as I stood, my shoes now on. I heard Watson laugh as I stormed out of the room, only to be met with Holmes who was standing not too far outside the door. He was now out of his house clothes and had on a regular day suit paired with a black bowler that stood perched atop his head.

"Ready to go?" he asked, a smile on his face. Only God knew how much I wanted to wipe that smile off his face. I turned my head as I heard Watson approach from behind.

"Yes, let's be off," he said as he walked out and grabbed his walking stick from out of the holder that was at the end of the hall. I turned back around to Holmes, who had a black bowler hat in his hand. He handed it to me, and I slowly took it, looking it over before meeting his eyes again.

"It's a mere precaution. To keep your identity secret, of course," he explained. I stared at him a bit longer before bending over and letting my black curls fall down. I quickly bunched it up with one hand and held it up with a few pins that I grabbed from my pocket. Securing the bun atop my head, I placed the hat on my head. My bang remained it from of my eyes and a few curls framed the side of my face. Pushing my bangs to the side, I looked back to Holmes, who had an unreadable le expression on his face.

"Happy?" I asked.

"Ecstatic."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Let's go then," I stated and didn't wait for a final response. I heard him mutter something, but couldn't quite make it out. I walked out the stairs and out the building. As I made my way towards the black stagecoach that was parked at the side of the street, I let out a sigh, as only one thought was swimming through my head…

'_Damn detective.'_


	3. Intent

**Sorry for the long wait. Had to get my grades up in school. Anyway, on to Chapter 3! Enjoy!**

* * *

It took nearly two hours for Constable Clark, Holmes, and myself to reach the Royal Armouries. Holmes was rather anxious and jumpy for the whole ride. It wasn't hard to see that he was restless and had been aching for a real case for a while. The rest of us waited patiently for the coach, and later on the boat, to arrive, and I personally thought it was worth the wait. I wasn't sure if I had been at the Armoury before, but the whole structure was absolutely magnificent. I thought the whole thing was an architectural feat. I can't imagine the craftsmanship that must have went into creating such an amazing palace. There were many towers that were lined at every corner and gates and moats that secured the area. It made me wonder how someone could have broken in and stolen from a place that had so much security.

One thing I made sure of was to enjoy the fresh air while I could. There was no doubt that when we returned to the house, I would immediately be back under house arrest. The mere thought made me cringe and cherish my time outside even more.

We walked on the western side of the structure, and we had to pass over the moat that was outside. After crossing the bridge, the four of us met up with more officers who were part of the Scotland Yard. It was easy to distinguish who the leader of the group was. He stood ahead of the rest and wore a frown. His whole presence read 'all business and no games.' He didn't quite notice our arrival until Holmes spoke.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Lestrade!" he exclaimed happily, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. The Inspector gave a nod to the three before his observing eyes landed on me.

"Who's this?"

"Oh, I'm-"

"This is Miss Rosemary McClaire… my new assistant. She'll be working with Watson and myself from now on," Holmes spoke before I could finish. Both Watson and I eyed the detective carefully, wondering what was going through his head at the moment.

"Very well. It's a pleasure to meet you," he replied, shaking my hand.

"Likewise."

"So Lestrade, what do we have?" Watson asked.

"There is one witness who claimed he saw the culprits. That is, however, before he fainted."

"Out of fear?" I questioned.

"You would think so, but no. Apparently… before he fainted, he can only recall seeing a bright light. One that engulfed the entire Tower," Lestrade explained.

'_A bright light?'_

"Where's the witness now?" Holmes asked.

"Inside. He was the youngest guard working in the Armoury at the time. He's quite petrified at the moment."

"What exactly was stolen, Inspector?" Watson asked. I was just as curious to find out what was seemingly more important than the Crowned Jewels.

"A medallion."

The tree of us narrowed our eyes, bewildered. _'Why on earth would someone break into the Tower just to steal a silly medallion? The whole idea seems rather absurd.'_

"A medallion," Holmes repeated, not sure if he heard correctly.

"Yes, Holmes. That's exactly what I said when I heard. That is, until I found out what it could be used for," Lestrade explained.

"What is it used for?" Watson asked.

"Apparently, its purpose is to amplify certain forms of black magic."

Watson sighed and rubbed his temples and Holmes pulled off his hat and scratched the top of his head. I didn't know much about black magic and its teaching and followers. However, I was educated enough to know that anyone who was found practicing this would have a trip to the rope in no time.

"Why would a tool used for black magic be in the Armoury to begin with?"

"No idea."

"Has the witness spoken to anyone yet?" I asked.

"He won't say a word to anyone. He's terrified, but also quite the stubborn bloke," the Inspector replied.

"Do you mind if I try speaking to him?" I asked, and received a curious look from Holmes in response. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.

"Be my guest. He's right over by the entrance. Try to get as much as you can out of him. The more we know about this, the better."

I nodded my head and turned away from the group, walking down the stone/pebble path and through the entrance, cautiously approaching the young man. He sat on one of the chairs inside the foyer, his head in his hands. I could tell that he was ashamed of himself, but I didn't know why. He couldn't possibly have thought that the whole mess was his fault. It was most likely far from it.

"Excuse me," I spoke, making him aware of my presence. I saw him jump slightly, then relax after realizing that I wasn't another officer. I could only imagine the amount of hassle he was getting from these men.

"Y-yes?"

"Hello, Sir. My name is Rosemary. May I ask what's yours?"

"It's Henry," he answered rather timidly.

"Well, It's very nice to meet you, Henry," I smiled, offering him my hand. He hesitated before he gave it a firm shake, and I saw him relax a bit more.

"How long have you been working at the Armouries, If you don't mind my asking?" I asked. I figured some small talk would loosen him up a bit before I went down to business.

"I've been a patrolman for 3 years now. It isn't a very long time, but it has been quite an amazing experience, working in such an amazing place as this one," he smiled.

"I thought the same thing when I waked in here. The entire structure is quite magnificent," I agreed.

"Indeed, it is."

A short silence followed, so I decided to jump right in. "Henry… I know how stressed out you must be at the moment, but the Police need your help in order to solve this case."

"I… I know," he sighed.

"Do you think you can explain to me what exactly it was that you saw? If you're unable to remember anything, that's quite alright as well."

He nodded his head, letting out a stressful sigh before he began his explanation.

"I came in yesterday for my regular shift. I work from nine in the night to five in the morning, you see. Well, everything was the same. Everything was perfectly fine and in order as always. But then, a little later into the evening, at about one in the morning, all the candles inside the Armoury were suddenly blown out. All at once! I jumped out of my chair and searched around, to see if I could pinpoint the cause of the disturbance. As expected, it was incredibly hard to see anything, The only thing that made it able for us to see was the light shining in from the moon. I wasn't sure if anyone else could see it, but I could see six figures from my post. They were all draped in a black robe, so I couldn't see any faces. They walked around the entire structure, making some kind of formation. The last thing that I could remember after that was a loud pitched scream and then a bright flash of light."

"That's… peculiar. What kind of 'formation' did they make, exactly?"

"I… I'm sorry. I'm not exactly sure," he frowned, his eyes looking away from me and towards the ground.

"It's quite alright. You've already given me more than enough information," I smiled at him, and a small smile graced his lips.

"Thank you… Miss Rosemary."

I nodded with a smile and began turning away towards the men outside.

"Wait!"

I turned back around to Henry, who was no longer sitting down. He slowly approached me and I focused all my attention on him, curious to hear what else he had to say.

"I'm not sure of what the culprits were forming, but I could show you where they stood. Maybe you could figure it out."

"That would be wonderful. Let me just get two of my colleagues so that we can-"

"No. I'll only show it to you. I've had enough police hassling me already, I'd rather not have them badgering me again," he spoke softly.

"But I need someone to see it with me. In case I'm not sure what the formation is. Besides, my colleagues do not have any affiliation with the Scotland Yard." I watched as he hesitated for a moment before he finally gave in. I could understand where he was coming from and why he was so hesitant to work with anyone else.

"Alright. As long as they are not with the police… then I guess it's alright."

"Thank you," I smiled before turning around and walking back to Holmes and the others. Inspector Lestrade and his men stood in a close knit group while Watson stood with his hands in his pocket, casually leaning on one of the stone pillars. Holmes, being the carefree fellow that he is, had found himself a spot on the ground behind one of the pillars. He sat on the ground with his hands entwined behind his head with his hat covering his eyes.

"Did you find out anything from him?" Watson asked as I stopped by him.

"I certainly hope so, seeing as how you took your sweet time in there," Holmes responded before I could answer. "Honestly, Miss McClaire, you must learn how to work faster and more efficiently. Time is always of the essence."

"I found out a great deal of information, actually, which is much more than I can say for you, Mr. Holmes," I retorted.

"Well," he began, removing his hat from his eyes, "if I had certain _womanly_ features that I could use to my advantage, then I'm sure I could make any man talk as well."

"Just what exactly are you insinuating, Mr. Holmes? That I seduced the boy into divulging what happened?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying. Women can be manipulative when they want to be, and I don't think it would have been very hard for you." he replied nonchalantly.

I looked at him, awe, annoyance and incredulity overpowering my emotions. I only had a certain amount of restraint in my body, and this man was testing it every time he opened his mouth. I never though of the possibility of going to jail for assaulting someone, but Holmes was changing that perception rather rapidly.

Instead of shooting back with some snide comment or remark, I simply smiled. It was a sweet, innocent smile, which made it look all the more intimidating. Watson raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth from myself to Holmes. Lestrade and his men, who had stopped conversing long enough to watch our little spat, looked confused as well. I turned back towards the entrance of the Armoury, beckoning Watson with my hand. "Follow me, Dear Watson."

"May I ask where to, Miss McClaire?" he questioned, but began following me nonetheless.

"To investigate, of course," I replied without turning around.

"So you expect to solve this case without my help?" Holmes questioned, rising from his seat on the floor.

"No, I never said that, now did I? No, I didn't think so. Actually, the guard inside has requested that none of the men working on this case accompany me back inside. Only my colleague could come in. And seeing as how you are a well known detective, it would seem that you fit under that category."

"What does he want with you?" Watson asked from beside me.

"He said that he saw the men who robbed the place make some sort of formation around the Armoury. It was the last thing he saw before he saw the flash of light."

"Ah, I see. You think the formation has something to do with the flash?"

"Precisely," I nodded.

"Hey, hold on. Why can't we go in with you?" Lestrade asked, gesturing to Himself and his men.

"Well… he's a bit upset at you guys for treating him so bad. You probably shouldn't have hassled him so much."

"I did nothing of the sort," he defended.

"You probably didn't, but that doesn't excuse them," I stated, pointing to his men. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and turned around to his men. From what I could surmise, he was just beginning what would be a thorough tongue lashing. I turned around and continued down the path to the entrance, Watson following right beside me. I had to admit, I was slightly surprised that Holmes hadn't interjected again.

"So what were you able to find out?" Watson questioned when we were almost inside.

"The guard said that he saw five cloaked men surround the entire structure a bit after midnight. That was the last thing he saw before he fainted. I figure that if we can figure out what kind of arrangement it was, then-"

"We can see if it has some connection. Since what the perpetrators stole apparently has something to do with black magic, they may have performed some that night. It's highly implausible,"

"But at the same time, not impossible," I finished. He nodded as we walked into the foyer, meeting up with Henry.

"I'm back. Henry, this is Dr. John Watson. Watson, this is Henry… the guard," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir," Henry greeted, holding out his hand.

"Likewise," Watson nodded, shaking his outstretched palm.

"I guess you're here to help with the investigation?"

"Yes. Anything that we could gather, either small or large, will be of great help to us," Watson answered.

"Yes, of course. Well, we should start upstairs then. I was the guard of the very top floor, so it is a bit of a walk."

"That's no problem," I smiled, gesturing for him to lead the way. He gave us both one final nod before staring up the steps.

Henry did not exaggerate one bit. It took about tem minutes for us to reach the top deck of the Armoury. Watson and I were a bit out of breath when we got to the top, but Henry didn't seem the least bit flustered. After catching my breath, I walked in the middle of the ground, where everything could be seen. The sight was rather breathtaking, and I would have loved to enjoy the view, but that would have to wait. There were more important things to deal with.

"Do you have a pen and pad, Watson?"

He quickly searched through his coat and pulled out a small notepad and a pen. I thanked him before directing my attention back to Henry.

"Ok. Can you show me exactly where you saw the six men stood?"

He nodded and walked towards the edge of the structure to begin his recollection of the event. "One of them stood down there, by the entrance," he spoke, and I drew a tiny cloaked figure that corresponded with the spot where he was standing. He walked a few feet to the left before stopping once again. He looked over the area and made certain that he was sure of the area before continuing. "There was another one right down there…. And one down there… and another there… one right there… and the last one down there."

After he had finished, I looked at the pad in my hand and tried to find something hidden within it. I decided to connect the dots and see if that would give me something, but after that was complete, all I was able to draw was a hexagon. I knew that wasn't right, so I continued to play around with it for a while.

"Were you able to discover anything?" Henry asked as he and Watson reproached me.

"Not yet."

"Let me take a look at that," Watson asked, holding out his palm. I handed him his notepad and watched as he stared at the small sketch, if you could even call it that. He observed it from various angles until I saw something flash through his eyes. He held out his hand again, silently asking me for the pen. I handed it to him and watched as he went to work making a connection with the picture. When he was done, he placed the pen in his pocked and showed me the notepad.

"Oh…it makes a star," I announced, looking over the picture that we had constructed together. He had made two triangles that were positioned on top of each other, making a star with six angles.

"This definitely adds onto the presumption that there was black magic involved in this. The star formation must have been a part of a form of ritual. Or, maybe it was a parlor trick that was used to fool people into believing that it was magic when, in actuality, it was nothing more than a cheap trick," Watson explained.

"Either way, this is a great deal of information that will help shine some light on the whole situation."

"Indeed."

"So… the information that I gave you… will it be enough?" Henry asked after we were done conversing.

"It won't completely close the case, but it had helped us a lot. Thank you."

He looked down to the floor, a small smile on his lips as his hands quickly darted into his pockets. "I'll lead you back downstairs now," he said as he turned towards the steps. I grabbed Watson's pad from his hands and ripped out the page that we had scribbled over. I then folded it and pocketed the sheet inside my coat pocket and tossed him back his notepad.

"What are you doing?"

"No doubt Holmes will ask you for what we discovered, and seeing as how the two of you are best of friends, you'll probably show him. I don't think he deserves that privilege. Not until he apologizes, at least," I explained as we began down the stairs.

"You two are quite the insufferable bunch," Watson chuckled, shaking his head.

"I did nothing wrong. He insulted me. He has no respect, he's arrogant, he's a pompous idiot-"

"Yes, I suppose he is. But that's what makes him who he is. If I showed up one day and found him prim and proper and, dare I say it, respectful, I would be very worried," Watson laughed.

"See, that's a problem. Because if I have to deal with that man everyday, I'm gonna eventually murder him. Or myself."

"That's a little drastic, don't you think?" he asked.

"Umm… Have you met Holmes?"

"Good point," he smiled.

I sighed as we made our way down, but stopped when I saw a glare from the corner of my eyes. I turned around and saw what looked like a silver animal on a broken piece of slender wood. Henry and Watson didn't seem to have noticed, so I quickly grabbed it and stashed it inside my coat as well.

The three of us walked back outside where the rest of the men were anxiously awaiting any news on the case. Henry, however, suddenly stopped and stepped back two feet.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I think my job is done. I gave you all the information I know. And… I don't want anything else to do with the police. So I think I'll get back to my job," he said, beginning to turn away.

"Right. Well, it was very nice to meet you Henry. And thank you, again," I said, holing out my palm. He gladly took it and gave it a firm handshake.

"It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Rosemary." I gave him a final nod and turned towards the rest of the group, letting him go on his way.

"Well Miss McClaire, what were you able to find out? Sufficient information, I hope?" Lestrade greeted me as Watson turned the other way to join Holmes.

"Sufficient enough, I would presume. I was able to find out that…" I stopped talking, as I noticed that a boat was unoccupied. _'This is perfect. I could go and visit Croydon. It's still early in the day. I could still make it and have enough time to investigate before it gets dark out…'_

"Actually… I'm going to let Watson fill you in. I may be Holmes's new partner, but the Doctor's been at this longer than I have," I smiled. I gave him one final nod then casually walked up to the constable.

"Constable Clark, how long does it take for another one of those boats to get here?"

"That's the only boat that runs through the area. You'd have to wait for that same boat to return."

"Ah. That's what I thought. Thank you very much, and I hope to see you again."

I turned away from him and made my way to the awaiting boat. When I got to the ledge, I carefully lowered myself onto the platform, then hopped onto the boat. I turned my head and watched as the group of men discussed the present case. However, I didn't miss when Holmes had ceased talking and had focused all pf his attention on me. He was at a loss due to the fact that he referred to me as his 'partner.' If he just got up and started chasing after me, it would certainly raise some questions.

"Where to, Miss?" the aged, but lively seaman asked.

"The entrance of the Armouries. Where the coaches are lined up," I smiled at the kind man. He nodded and began steering the tiny boat ashore. I took one last look towards Holmes, and the frustration was visible on his face. Just to push his buttons a little more, I sent him a wide grin and a playful wave. I could only imagine how much his blood was boiling at this very minute.

And I loved it.

* * *

Isn't it amazing how life could go from being so simple one minute to so complicated the next?

For example, I was once living happily with my family and my friends. Maybe I was even on my way to getting married. I was taking a simple walk, as I would normally, and everything changed and became complicated beyond belief. I was attacked, injured and left for dead in some alley. Now, what I did to anger someone so much that they would try and murder me is beyond me. I don't think I'm mean. I am a very nice person. Why would someone want me dead?

And, if things were not complicated enough, my family, my own flesh and blood, has not yet alerted the authorities of my disappearance. That fact alone is quite unnerving. As far as I could remember, I was my Father's eldest child, so why would he not send people out to look for me? It was all so confusing.

Then again…

Maybe I jumped to too early conclusions. Maybe my parents did send a search party out to find me, but after a while they gave up. Yes, that's a likely possibility, isn't it? Yes. Maybe I was just worrying for no reason. My family wouldn't disregard me like that. I know that for a fact. But despite all of that, one thing was plain and true…

Someone wanted me dead.

"Well, isn't that just peachy? Most women my age find out that a man wants their hand in marriage. But no, I had to find out that someone wants to kill me," I mused, biting into a saltine cracker. I piped up my ear when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I waited quietly and listened to see who they belonged to. After a few short seconds, the door to the room burst open.

"Where could she possibly be? She made it clear that she wanted to venture out into Croydon, and now she is nowhere to be found," I heard Holmes announce.

"Maybe we missed her. She hasn't been able to recall any of her memories yet, so there's no way she could have gone anywhere else. Maybe she is still in Croydon. We should go back and search once more. We're bound to run into her eventually" Watson added. I continued listening while I wrapped one of my curls around my finger.

"I don't think I have ever met someone so extremely infuriating in my entire life. I tell her one thing and she does the complete opposite. She is so-"

"Instead of insulting her, don't you think we should be thinking of a way to find her?" Watson interjected. "Mary must be worried out of her mind. I promised her I would be home early."

"I honestly don't know where else we could look. It's getting later by the minute, and the number of potential criminals are rising by the second. And I assure you Watson, I will not have that woman's blood on my hands."

"Well, you needn't worry about that," I finally spoke. Both men went quiet, and I stood from my hiding spot behind the bookshelf. I slowly dusted myself off before meeting the eyes of the two men. Watson wore a look of relief on his face while Holmes's expression was rather unreadable.

"You mean… you've been here this whole time?" Watson asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm sorry that I kept you from Mary all night. that wasn't my intentions at all," I said sincerely.

"I feel inclined to ask you this Miss McClaire, but what was your sole intention? To turn Watson and myself into madmen while we tried to discover your whereabouts?" Holmes asked.

"To prove a point," I stated, and he seemed to grow more frustrated at that. "And to make you look like a fool, of course."

"So, you didn't go to Croydon? You've been at Baker Street this entire time?" Watson intervened before Holmes could reply.

"Yes. I have to ask, what made you think that I went to Croydon?"

"Well, Holmes said that-"

"Exactly. Holmes said. You had to evidence that I went there, and you had no facts or actual reasons to believe that I went there. You just acted on this assumption because Holmes said."

"The actions that you made before leaving the Armoury made it quite clear that going to Croydon was your initial objective," Holmes replied, calmer than I had expected.

"You're quite wrong, actually. At first, I did want to go to Croydon, but I took your words of warning into consideration. After deciding not to go, my main intention was to throw you off and see if you would take the bait. Which you did spectacularly, might I add."

"Do you think this is some kind of joke, Miss McClaire?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. I find it absolutely hilarious that someone wants me dead, I am unable to venture out on the streets alone, and that I am a prisoner in a house that is not even mine!"

"If you do not wish to stay here, Madame, then you can leave. No one is going to twist your arm and force you to stay," Holmes said, walking right past me.

"Holmes," Watson warned.

"I mean it. She is clearly not happy here and is ungrateful for us saving her, so she can leave if that is what-"

"Who said I was ungrateful?" I questioned, spinning around so that I was facing him again. "I appreciate the fact that you saved me. I really do, but ever since the first day I've been here, you have acted as if you had some kind of problem with me. You've been rude, disrespectful and un-negotiable. I don't see how you're going to be of any help if we can't find some common ground."

"How can I solve this case when the only clue that I have couldn't even remember her own name?"

"Oh mon Dieu. It's not my fault. I'm trying the best that I can, and all you keep doing is putting all this pressure and blame on me. I don't know what you want me to do!"

Everything was silent for a moment, and the only thing that could be heard was my breathing. It was amazing how worked up I could get after arguing with this man. Watson had stayed quiet for the entire time, watching each of us carefully as we had our spat.

"Apologize."

My eyes darted to Holmes, unsure if I heard him right. "What?" Watson and I asked in unison.

"All I want from you is an apology. Apologize for sending us on a wild goose chase, apologize for being uncooperative, apologize for-"

"You want **me** to apologize to **you**?" I asked again. "I think I am the one in need of an apology."

"I am not going to apologize for being myself," he stated resolutely.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I decided against it. I looked at him for a while before I turned around and headed for the door. I bid the Doctor goodnight as I opened the door and stepped out of the room. I closed the door behind me and began making my way towards my room.

"You won't apologize for being yourself? Well… neither will I."

* * *

"**Oh Mon Dieu" - "Oh my God" in French**

***Okay, I don't want to sound pathetic, but I really am getting depressed with the little bit of reviews I've been getting. Come on guys. Write something! If you love it, tell me. If you hate it , tell me. If you want me to try something, tell me your ideas cause I'll gladly add them in there. Just send me your thoughts. And for those who have reviewed, thanks a bunch. It means a lot and it makes me smile!***

**Sincerely,**

**PoisonLipz**


	4. Who Would've Thought?

_**Hey guys!**_

_**I had planned to post this on Saturday, but there was a lot of things to do, and Sunday was my birthday so I was out the whole day. I just finished this today and decided to post it.**_

_**I'd like to thank all the people who posted and sent me messages and ideas. It means so much to me. I just ask that you guys keep 'em coming. **_

_**Anywho, on to Chapter Four! Enjoy!**_

"_Come on Lottie! You can run faster than that! Even the pup is going faster than you!" shouted Rosemary as she ran around the front yard. Rain was heavily pouring down on the young woman, yet she frolicked as if she hadn't a care in the world. Her clothes were soaked from head to toe, but the constant activity kept her body fairly warm instead of the frigid cold that it should be._

"_I isn't my fault! Teddy has more legs than me!" giggled the tiny three year old. Charlotte, Rosemary's younger sister, ran away from her bigger sister and her Siberian Husky puppy who was trying to catch up to her._

"_Well that's too bad because we're coming to get you!" Rose laughed as she chased her little sister around the yard, her pup right by her side. She saw her sister laugh and giggle as she ran around the corner of their large estate. Just as she was about to get to her, Rosemary halted and grabbed the puppy off the ground. She ran all the way around the opposite side of the house. She stopped and turned around the corner where she could see Charlotte peering around the corner. She set the puppy on the floor and held her finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet. She then crept up behind her sister and grabbed her waist, throwing her up in the air and catching her before she fell._

"_I told you I would get you!" Rose laughed as she fell backwards on the soggy grass. Charlotte giggled as she rolled the two of them around. Teddy barked a few times before joining us and rolling around in a messy heap all over the yard._

"_Rose! Charlotte!" A deep, male voice called from inside the estate._

"_Yes Father?" both girls replied in unison._

"_I'm glad the two of you are having fun, but do come inside. I wouldn't want the two of you getting sick from all this rain."_

"_Okay. We'll be in shortly," Rosemary responded, and she watched as their Father nodded before turning back inside the house._

"_Aww. I want to stay out here and play," Charlotte whined. _

"_No, Father's right. We have to get out of these wet clothes," Rose agreed, and Charlotte only sulked more. "Come on, don't be sad Lottie. How about this? We go inside, get cleaned up, then we can make your favorite butterscotch cookies?"_

"_With the peanuts too!!" she piped up. Rosemary laughed and moved some of Charlotte's brown hair out of her eyes._

"_Well of course! They're not the same without the peanuts! So? What do you say?"_

"_Let's go!" she giggled as she began making her way into their home. Rose could only laugh and shake her head. She look down at Teddy, who was looking at her, wide eyed and tongue hanging out._

"_Come on Teddy. Let's get you cleaned up too," she said as she scooped up the puppy into her arms and walked towards the house. She quickly jogged up the steps of the building and walked up to the door. Her sister, who had dashed inside the house, had left the door wide open for her. She tossed Teddy on the ground, who then proceeded to shake the water out of his fur. She watched as he shook himself off for a few more seconds before running off somewhere._

"_Here you are, Miss Rosemary," Annabelle, one of the maids announced from behind. Rosemary jumped a bit, but relaxed when she saw who it was. She held out a towel, which Rose gladly took._

"_Thank you Anna. Did you happen to see where my sister ran off to?" she asked as she shut the front door and squeezed as much water out of her hair as she could._

"_Yes, Miss Charlotte just went up to her room to strip out of those wet clothes," she replied as Rose slipped out of her heels._

"_Okay. Thank you Anna. That'll be all," she said as she lifted her dripping skirt and slowly made her way into the house._

"_Oh! I almost forgot. Mister Gabriel is waiting for you in your room."_

"_Gabriel? Did he by chance say what he was doing here?"_

"_I'm not sure. He just said he wanted to see you."_

_Rosemary let out a sigh before thanking Anna once more. She quickly made her way upstairs to her room She opened the door and, sure enough, Gabriel Van Zant was sitting ever so comfortably on her bed. His hair was slicked back and he wore a fine, but casual day suit._

"_Rose, my darling! It's so good to see you again! What happened? You're soaking wet" smiled the handsome blond haired blue eyed man._

'Thank you for pointing out the obvious.'

"_I was outside playing with Charlotte. Gabriel, what are you doing in my room? You should have waited for me in the parlor," she sighed._

"_I could have, but then it would have taken so much longer for me to see your beautiful face," he replied, rising off the bed and gliding over towards her. He took her hand in his and placed a soft kiss to her knuckles. She had a strong urge to roll her eyes, but she stopped herself before she could insult the man._

"_That's very sweet, but I'm not exactly proper at the moment, and I need to get cleaned up. I'll come and see you after I'm done," Rose said, grabbing his arm and directing him towards the door._

"_Well, I won't be here much longer. My Father's the one who's here on business. He's been discussing things with your Stepbrother for about an hour. He just told he that he's almost finished so I'll probably be gone before you get a chance to clean up."_

"_Then… just stop by some other time."_

"_Why, I'll be here tomorrow. I'll be heading out of town in a couple of days, and I'll need to spend as much time with you as I can," he smiled._

"_Alright. Well, I'll see you later," Rose said._

"_Hopefully sooner than later, my dear," he said, grabbing her hands and placing his lips on each. He then released her and made his way out of her bedroom. He looked back and gave one final wave before disappearing behind the door._

_Rosemary sighed and rubbed her temples. It was only when she heard a soft knock on her door did she look up. She shouted a 'come in' and watched as her sister came in, wearing only a towel on her body._

"_Why you waiting for Rosie? Let's go take bath!" she exclaimed, which instantly made Rosemary's face light up. She called her over with her hand, and she hoisted her up in he arms when she finally got to her._

"_You're the best sister in the whole wide entire world. Did you know that?" she whispered as she rubbed their noses together. She smiled even more as Charlotte erupted in a fit of giggles._

"_Come on. Let's go."_

* * *

I opened my eyes, but had to squint because of the faint sunlight that was coming through the windows. I slowly got up off the bed and pulled the curtains closed. I then walked over to the chimney that was in the corner of my room and threw a few pieces of log into the already burning fire. As I walked back to my bed, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and tried to recall whatever I could about my dream.

'_Alright then, let's see… I have a younger sister, a puppy, an alive and well father, and an annoyingly flirtatious suitor. And I live in a large estate… filled with maids. Huh. Who would've thought?'_

I opened my eyes and saw a small piece of paper in front of my door. I walked over and picked it up, opening it to read its contents.

_Dinner's behind the door. Hope you like fish._

_-Mrs. Hudson._

I smiled as I unlocked the door and slowly opened it. Sure enough, there was a silver covered tray in front of my door. I quickly picked it up and shut the door back. The bottom of the dish was still warm, so it probably wasn't sitting outside for too long. I placed it on the coffee table that sat in the middle of the room, and I lifted the lid off. There was grilled pink salmon, some string beans and a small baked potato.

'_I'll have to remember to thank her later.'_

I brought the plate over to my bed and silently began eating. My eyes wandered over the room, impressed with my work. Earlier on, I was only concerned over having a place to sleep. But with the amount of time I had, I was able to completely redecorate my room. The entire place had been dusted and mopped, the dark curtains were replaced with a lighter, thinner material, and the dingy bed sheets were exchanged with a new, fresh bedspread. All of the clutter and junk was removed and the room was now more spacious and neat.

I'm still amazed that I had two days of free time to myself.

Yes. I have been holed up in my bedroom for two days, save for the times when I had to use the bathroom or bathe. I've been able to occupy myself with cleaning, organizing, drawing and reading. I also spent a lot of the time during and between these activities to try and gather any information I could and, in a sense, I was quite successful.

I was able to remember that my birth Mother passed away shortly after I was born, and my Father remarried when I was ten years old. She had already had a son, so I also had a stepbrother. The dream also help shed some light on my life. Since the dream appeared to be a memory, and a recent one at that, I was able to deduce that my Father and Stepmother had a child together, and she was the one I was playing with in my dream, Charlotte. My Father is also the owner of the large estate. I am not at the moment aware of his position in society, but I can only assume that he has a very high title. There were some other faces, all of which I could not place a name under, but overtime I recalled someone new, I could tell that they had some sort of business with my Father.

While all of this newfound information made me very happy, it did not shed any light on my current situation. I'm still unaware of who it was that tried to kill me, or why. However, I wasn't completely discouraged. I figured that if I could remember other little tidbits about my life, then something so important as that information would come to me in no time.

I looked up when I heard something rap on the door. I walked over and quickly opened it, unsurprised to see Watson standing there, walking stick in hand. He came by the first morning after the argument between Holmes and myself, and I had told him from then that I didn't plan to come out until Holmes apologized. He didn't condone my planned actions, but he went with it nonetheless. He even came up with an idea to prepare me in case Holmes were to come and apologize. Whenever he came to visit, he would knock on my door six times with his walking stick. The sound of an object hitting a door sounds relatively different than when a hand is hitting it. That's how I was able to tell who it was.

"Hi. May I come in?"

"Yes, of course," I said, stepping aside and allowing him to enter. I closed the door and watched as his eyes wandered around the room. I walked back in and sat back down on my bed.

"I see you've had a lot of time on your hands," he smiled.

"I have. I cleaned out the entire room and replaced practically everything. Now it actually looks like there's some life in here. Have a seat," I said, gesturing to the chair that was next to the desk on the right side of my bed. He thanked me before he sat down.

"How have you been? Have you been able to remember anything significant about yourself?"

"I have, actually. Nothing regarding my attackers, but sufficient information about my family and where I live. I figured that in time, everything else will come back to me."

"That makes sense," he nodded.

" I have even come up with the diagnosis."

"Diagnosis? To what exactly?" he asked confused.

"To why I couldn't remember anything before."

"Please enlighten me with this apparent disease," he smirked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

"It's called Holmes Syndrome."

"Oh God…" he sighed, rubbing his temple.

"It's true! The day I isolate myself from that man, and some of my memories finally return? I'm not sure that that's just a coincidence."

"I'm sure it is," he sighed.

"I don't think so. He stressed me out everyday since I woke up here, and when I finally relax is the time I remember something," I reasoned. "How is that case coming, by the way? The robbery at the Armouries?"

"Not exactly sure. Holmes said that he was onto something when I talked to him this morning. I haven't had time to go see him yet… I should probably go and check up on him," he said, placing his hat and walking stick on my table as he rose from his chair.

"Alright then."

"Just… could you two try to make up? You both are acting quite immature about this. If you ask me, you're both blowing this whole thing way out of proportion."

"He insulted me on more than one occasion! I did nothing wrong to that man. I'll admit, it was rude and immature of me to send you both out looking for me that night, and I'm sorry for that. And I'll tell him that, once he apologizes," I stated, crossing my arms.

"Fine. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Take your time," I said as he walked out of the room. I finished eating the rest of my meal as I waited for him to return.

I hade to admit, I was surprised that Holmes did not come to check up on me yet. Not that I expected him to care. I just though he would have been in here at least once by now to tell me how much of a nuisance I am to him and Watson. How he couldn't wait to find my assailant so that he could be done with me. How he loathed me. How he's sorry that he was walking in Croydon that day and that he had to find me. How he-

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the six knocks on my door. _'Watson,_' I thought as I got up and pulled the door open.

"…"

You know, I find it extremely amazing how someone can go from being so content and pleasant one second to so annoyed and frustrated the next.

'_Well… isn't this a _pleasant _surprise.'_

"Hello, Miss McClaire," Holmes spoke first.

I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what his intentions were. "Hello," I replied slowly.

"May I come in? If you're not busy, of course."

For some reason, I couldn't find my voice to speak to him. I wasn't scared or nervous, so I didn't understand what was wrong with me. I didn't want to keep him waiting outside, so I stepped aside and allowed him to enter my room. He walked in slowly, and I closed the door behind me. It was then that I realized that he had knocked on the door six times, the same amount of times I had instructed Watson to knock whenever he came to see me.

'_That sneaky devil. He set this up.'_

I let out a small sigh and walked back into my room. "You can have a seat if you like," I said, gesturing towards the chair that Watson was previously occupying. He nodded and took the seat. I sat on my bed, facing him.

"I see you've… had time to renovate your room."

"Yes, I have."

He nodded, and continued looking around the room. I looked down at my hands, unsure how to approach the situation. If there was a word greater than awkward, that was where we were.

"So… Watson tells me that you've been able to… uncover some of your memories?"

"Yes, that's right. Most of them are just little fragments about myself. I haven't been able to remember anything about the day I was attacked," I replied, narrowing my eyes a bit.

"Yes, I see," he muttered. I ran my hand through my hair as he cleared his throat.

"I hope you found your… dinner to your liking," he said as he gestured to my empty plate, and at that point, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I covered my mouth and let out a chuckle, watching as he raised an eyebrow.

"May I ask what you find so funny?"

"You're not serious? Are you really going to sit there and pretend we're best friends? I'm not an idiot. This isn't a social visit. So can you stop beating around the bush and say what you came in here to say, please? The sooner you get it out in the open, the sooner we can get on with our lives."

"Very well," he said, clearing his throat and adjusting himself on the chair. "I came in here to tell you that I think that you are acting quite childish."

"Childish? This coming from the man who hid in his room for two days, avoiding his problems."

"If I'm not mistaken, you've been in your room for the same amount of time, avoiding the same problems," he stated calmly.

"I'm not avoiding anything. I have no problems at all. I just didn't want to see your face for the time being, and that seemed to work in my favor… until now."

"You know, that offer still stands."

"What offer?"

"Apologize. Start anew. Turn over a new leaf, as they say," he replied, pulling his pipe from his pocket.

"Are you mental? Are you… seriously mental?" I asked.

"Well, seeing as how I can produce clear and sensible thoughts and I can speak comprehendible words, then I can safely say that I am not at all mental," he replied nonchalantly, pulling a small bag filled with tobacco and stuffing some of it in his pipe.

"Why did you come here? Clearly you have no intention to apologize to me, and we're clearly not making any progress, so…" I stopped when I saw that he was paying me no mind, and instead focusing on his pipe. I reached over and snatched it from his hands, and before he could grab it back, I dropped it in the front of my shirt. Despite the fact that I was steaming at that point, I took great pleasure in seeing his frustration.

"Well, it seems like I have your attention now," I stated, determination in my voice.

"Give me my pipe."

"Not until you apologize," I said, crossing my arms.

"Give me my pipe."

"Apologize."

"Oh my goodness… I never would have thought that I would have met such an insane, insufferable woman in all my life," he sighed, standing from his chair.

"Oh really? Well you're a pompous, cynical jackass whom I hate and loathe. I mean you have no manners whatsoever. I'm not even sure you are aware of the definition! And then telling the Inspector that croc about us working together. Why did you even tell Lestrade that I'm your assistant, or partner or whatever, when you clearly do not even know the meaning of the word either?"

"What I told Lestrade was merely a precaution. Another risk I had to take in order to keep you safe. And for your information, I am well aware of the meaning of both of those words. I think that it's you who have a problem understanding it, _Rosemary_," he stated.

"Well, you want to know what irks me, _Sherlock? _The fact that you're acting like you're the only one working on this so called 'team.' Do you know how much it kills me to know that someone wants me dead, and I can't to a thing about it? I wish that I could go out and find the person and have them apprehended, but, unlike you, I can compromise. I have already done so." By now, I was standing, my breathing erratic. I found it extremely amazing how this man could get me so worked up just by opening his mouth.

"How so?"

"I'm still here, aren't I? I came very close to leaving two nights ago, but I listened to what you said, and I didn't go against your wishes. I know that you mean well, which is why I haven't left. Trust me, if I wanted to leave, I could have."

"Well, you are very ambitious, I'll give you that, but I doubt you would have been able to leave without my knowing."

"There you go with the insults again…" I sighed, walking over to the window. I looked out at the sun that was setting in the distance, casting a reddish violet hue over the horizon. _'I can't believe I'm going to do this…'_

"Look, I need your help to find my attackers, and you… kind of need my help in the robbery case. So…" I turned around to face him, "I …apologize. I apologize for making you and Watson go out and look for me, I apologize for being difficult, and whatever else I forgot to mention. I'm sorry," I said.

'_God, that was harder than I thought it would be.'_

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I…. I suppose…. I'm sorry as well."

"For?" I pressed.

"For making you upset."

"Um, I'm pretty sure that will not suffice at all. Try 'for being a arrogant, rude, disrespectful, pompous arse.' How about that? Do you think that sums it up or shall I continue?"

"I thought this was my apology," he frowned, and I shrugged. "I apologize for the way I have treated you. Are you satisfied?"

"Very."

"What did you mean when you said that I might need your help in the case?" he asked immediately, getting right down to business.

"Oh… well, back at the Armouries, I found something that might be useful to the case. There was a broken walking stick on the stairwell. It was very intricate and detailed. Um, just one moment…"

I walked over to my coat that was sitting on the chair and pushed my hands down into the inside pockets. However, I couldn't find the metal lump that I was searching for.

"Um… one minute," I said, now looking over the area where the coat was.

"Don't worry. I already saw it."

I stopped when he said that, and I slowly turned around to face him. "Excuse me?"

"The broken piece of walking stick that you were referring to. I already saw it."

"How did you see it? I didn't show it to anyone, not even Watson."

"While that may be true, you weren't very good at concealing said item," he said, then he pulled open my door and walked out into the hall. It took me a second to comprehend what had just happened, and I hurriedly rushed out of my room and headed towards his room. I walked in and saw him standing by his window and Watson sitting in one of his chairs.

"So, is everything settled now?" he asked.

"How did you get the stick if it was in my room? My door was locked at all times. What did you do, come in thorough my window?"

"I guess that's a no," Watson sighed.

"That would have been a bit more difficult, but I would have been successful all the same. The last night we… spoke, I noticed something bulging out of the inside pocket of your coat. I decided to investigate and see what it was. It was rather easy to do while you were occupying the bathroom last night," he explained.

"You do know that's an invasion of privacy, don't you?"

"Not when it's beneficial to the case," he stated.

"How so?" Watson finally asked.

"I checked the stick and found the initials _E.D._ on the base, just under the design of the eagle. I recognized the metal that the design was made out of as titanium, and after doing a bit of research, I was able to discover where the stick was designed. It was made at Johnson and Smith, a shop in the heart of Mayfair. It only took a few hours for me to travel to the shop and get the address and the name of the owner. It belongs to a Edgar Daniels, a Lord that resides in Beddington."

"Beddington? That's a pretty far distance from Mayfair," Watson stated.

"My thoughts exactly. I would say that a little investigating is in order, Wouldn't you Watson?"

"Indeed."

"You know, you could have asked me instead of going into my room."

"Well, the last time I checked, you are occupying one of Watson's previous room, so it is not your room. It is being loaned to you. Besides, if I asked, you wouldn't have given it to me."

"That's right, because you wouldn't have apologized."

"Oh well. I think we have already crossed that bridge, so there's no need to dwell on it anymore. Agreed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me and holding out a hand for me to shake. I eyed it cautiously, watching him with scrutinizing eyes. After a moment, I held out my own hand and gave his a firm shake.

"Wonderful. Now, on to the task at hand. My sources have told me that Daniels is currently out of Beddington and is taking care of business in Dagenham. I say that we travel to Beddington tonight and search his house. The sooner we get there, the more information we can find on him."

"Wait. I thought that you said that he was a Lord."

"Yes, that's correct."

"Well, wouldn't there be a bunch of guards watching his house? How will you get around them?"

"I'm sure that won't be too hard to accomplish," he replied.

"And, if there are a lot of guards around, then we'll know for sure that he's hiding something. I mean, why have a bunch of guards watching over an empty house?" Watson pointed out.

"Precisely," Holmes agreed.

"Well, when are you guys planning to leave?" I asked.

"_We_," Holmes began, gesturing to all three of us, "will be leaving shortly after midnight. It'll take about an hour to get to Beddington."

"Wait. I'm going as well?"

"Of course. I mean we are partners after all," he smirked.

"What do you want in return?" I asked.

"Why do you think I want something? I am simply giving you what you want. The ability to travel outside. I mean there's no point in keeping you trapped in this house, now is there?"

"Traveling by myself is what I want, not you traveling with me," I pointed out.

"Yes, that is true, but we must learn to walk before we run. You'll be able to go out alone soon enough. Once I'm positive that you won't come back injured or, this being the worst case scenario, not come back at all."

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. "Fine."

"Good. Now, I would advise you to go and get some rest. We'll be departing in the next couple of hours, and you'll need all the rest that you can get. I'm not entirely sure how long we'll be gone."

"Alright," I said, turning around and walking out of his room.

"Uh, just one moment!" he shouted. I turned around and watched as he walked up to me, holding out his hand when he was close enough.

"My pipe."

"Ah, yes. I almost forgot." I reached in the front of my shirt, but stopped myself before I could pull it out. "No, I don't think I want to give it back just yet,' I said, removing my hands form my shirt and placing them in my pockets.

His face got serious, and he blinked once before speaking. "And why is that?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure if you deserve it back yet. I think I should contemplate this for a while." I turned back around and continued walking to my room. I stooped halfway there and spun back around to face him, and sure enough, he was still there.

"Besides, the night is still young, no? Let's see where it goes," I stated, then continued back to my room, a triumphant smirk on my lips.

I was certain that this was going to be a long night.

_**AN: Okay, I am aware that people sent me ideas, and I will use them in the future. The only reason why I didn't use them was because I had already started this chapter right after my last post, so everything for this chapter was pretty much already set in stone. I will, however, blend those ideas within the story, so don't get discouraged it you don't see them immediately.**_

_**Thank you again for everyone who reviewed and favorited the story. It really means a lot. Oh, and if you guys find anything wrong, meaning if Holmes or Watson don't seem in character or if there's even something wrong with the language or anything, feel free to tell me.**_

_**I thing that's it. Until next time!**_

_**PoisonLipz**_


	5. Eyes  Wide Open

"Must you do that?"

"What am I doing?"

"You're twitching your leg incessantly and tapping your nails against the window pane. It's quite irritating, to say the least."

"Well, I'm bored and anxious. So you'll have to endure it," I replied nonchalantly as Holmes and myself sat in a coach that was on its way to Lord Daniels's estate. Beddington was a few miles away from Baker Street, so we left exactly at midnight so as to not waste any time. There were a very few people out on the streets, so we were moving pretty quickly through the streets without any traffic from passing bystanders.

However, Holmes had suggested that we take one of the coaches instead of having someone drive us there, so Watson was driving the coach as Holmes and I sat inside. Alone.

"I have to agree, this ride is making me quite restless. I feel as if we will discover something of great value tonight," he said.

"What if we find nothing but an empty house? What will you do then?"

"I'd rather not think pessimistically, Miss McClaire."

"I'm not thinking pessimistically. I'm thinking realistically. You should try doing the same. But what do I know? I'm just a woman. I'm nowhere near as brilliant as you," I replied calmly, but sarcastically. I could feel his eyes on me, a frown on his lip as I looked out the window of the coach. I stretched my legs out on the opposite seat and tucked my hands on the inside of my coat, trying to shield myself from the chilly Autumn air. I knew that we were getting close by as I saw the scenes of the countryside slip into view.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine."

I heard him grunt in response and shift around, making himself more comfortable on his seat. I continued to stare out the window and unconsciously started tapping my nails against the window again. I closed my eyes and placed my head against the cold glass window. I was content with the silence until Holmes spoke again.

"Do you miss playing the piano?"

I opened my eyes and turned to face him. "What?"

"Well, because of your relentless tapping, I can only assume it is a subconscious act that your mind is making you perform because you miss playing the piano."

"I don't play the piano," I replied slowly.

"Well… your memory loss must be worse than I had anticipated." I furrowed my brows at this but waited for him to continue. "The insides of the tips of your fingers have very tiny, yet very prominent calluses. I noticed it the first day you woke up, when we first shook hands. When you pair it with your rather bad habit, it is safe to assume that you, at one point in your life, learned how to play the piano."

In an instant, my hand was in front of my face and I was staring at my fingertips, trying to see what he was talking about. I was surprised that he could have realized that detail from a simple handshake and a rather common habit. I was about to respond again when Watson pulled open the door of the coach.

"We're here," he announced. I hadn't even realized that we had stopped moving. "It seems as though the security around the building isn't as strict as we had suspected. In fact, I don't see any guards around the building at all," he added.

"Well, it could be a case of reverse psychology. Daniels could have assumed that an increased amount of guards around the building would cause some suspicion among others. Or maybe the security inside is stricter than it is outside. Or maybe I'm just giving him too much credit."

"Well, I suppose we're about to find out," Watson added. He stepped out the way and allowed us to exit the coach. Holmes exited first and I followed suit, immediately met with the scenery of the countryside. The pathway we were on was made of cobblestone, and it was lined with trees and grassland. The estate was perched atop a small hill. Because we were in the middle of Autumn, the trees around us were all covered with red or orange leaves. The area was beautiful and was very comfortable to be in.

"So, how do you expect to get inside? Surely you're not thinking of just breaking and entering?" I asked while admiring the scenery.

"I think going through a window would suffice," Holmes replied.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that still breaking and entering?" I asked looking at him now.

"Not if we don't break the window," he replied, proceeding towards the mansion. I looked at him incredulously, the glanced at Watson who only smirked at me.

I followed both men as they hurried towards a side window. "You know, I'm not one for breaking rules Mister Holmes. I find it much easier to abide to the law," I whispered as we made our way to the side of Daniels's home.

"Well, if you go on in life following all the rules, you'll never get anywhere," he retorted.

"Do you know what part of the house this is?" Watson asked before I could argue with him.

"I do, actually. It's the main kitchen. I had time to scope out the house earlier today," he replied as he walked up to the side window. Looking inside, I couldn't really make anything out. Holmes, however, knew exactly what he was doing as he fiddled with the hinges of the window, gradually pulling it open.

"Alright. Shall we proceed?" he smirked. He was the first to enter the house, and Watson followed not too far behind him. I, being the naturally stubborn person I was, stood outside the window with my arms folded. He eventually returned to the window and rested his elbow on top of the window sill. I looked down at him as he stared up at me, both of us locked in a death stare.

"You are a very confusing woman, Rosemary," he began. I raised my brows, half surprised that he called me by my first name, half anticipating this speech he was about to give. "You say you want to leave the house, get some fresh air, explore. Now I take you out and you're being uncooperative," he finished calmly.

"That's because wanting fresh air and wanting to break into someone's house are two different things."

"Alright listen… rather than going back and forth at each other the whole night, I propose that we deal with this as two mature adults. So… I am asking you to come with us. It would put everyone's mind at ease."

I sighed and ran my hand over my face. "I hope you know what you're doing. That's all I'm going to say," I said before I moved him aside and stepped inside the house. I was actually lucky that I didn't push him to far away, because I tripped on my way in and almost fell on my backside. He easily caught me and helped me steady myself.

"You aright?" Watson asked.

"Of course she is. Wouldn't want to make a commotion now would we?" he stated as he began walking out of the kitchen and further into the house. Watson followed suit and I, somewhat unwillingly, followed closely behind the two.

From the kitchen, we walked through the dining room. It was decorated with beautiful paintings and a few statues in the corners. Curios filled with glass figurines. To sum it all up, everything looked extremely valuable. The curtains looked as if they were made from the finest silk. The table in the center of the room seemed to be made of the best mahogany. The paintings were definitely worth a great amount. All in all, this Daniels person was quite the wealthy man indeed.

"Holmes, is Daniels a bachelor?" asked Watson.

"He is. It seems like a rather large place for only one man," as we reached the hallway of the estate.

"Unless he has something to hide," Watson mused, and Holmes agreed. Maybe it was the silence that surrounded us, or maybe it was just my paranoia, but I found myself looking over my shoulder and around the house. I kept thinking that Daniels was going to show up and have us all arrested.

"What if you do find Daniels with the stolen artifact? Can you still arrest him even though you broke into his house?" I asked.

"I don't see why not. Our petty crime will be overlooked once we find the medallion."

"If," I clarified.

"Fine. I'll make you happy and live in your pessimistic mindset. _If_ we find Daniels with the medallion."

"Okay, there's no need to argue now," Watson began in a hushed tone. "I wouldn't want our suspect or anyone acquainted with him to unexpectedly be in the house and have us arrested. We would be the ones at fault, no matter what our intentions are."

"What are we even looking for?" I asked as we began our descent into the basement of the house.

"Anything out of the ordinary," Holmes replied.

"And what would out of the ordinary be, exactly?"

Everything after that happened was a bit fuzzy and blurry. All I was able to process was my scream, which could probably be heard through the entire estate, Holmes and Watson shouting my name, and my back coming in contact with the ground. Hard. The impact knocked the wind right out of me, and I couldn't respond to the calls coming from the worried men above. I covered my eyes with my hands to stop the debris that was falling from above from hindering my eyesight. A loud groan escaped my lips as I tried to roll over onto my side.

"Rosemary? Are you alright? Can you speak?" one of the men asked.

I tried to reply, but found it increasingly difficult. After a few coughs, I was able to mutter "I'm fine" to the two.

"Stay still. Holmes and I will be down in a minute," Watson replied, and I heard their footsteps hurriedly truing to find their way down to the room that I fell into. Now that I happened to be more aware of my surrounding, I covered my nose and my mouth to prevent myself from emptying the contents of my dinner. A pungent, foul stench had found its way up my nostrils and it was taking every ounce of my willpower not to retch on the ground.

Trying to distract myself from the smell, I slowly sat up and began surveying the room that I was in. It was dark and very dim lit, but my eyes had adjusted and allowed me to see a bit more. From just a first glimpse, I was already sacred out of my mind. The walls of the room all had these strange symbols and signs written all over. Some of it was written in chalk, and some was written in what I could only assume, and what I hoped to God wasn't, blood.

My eyes darted to the floor, and sure enough, it was covered with weird writings as well. I immediately got to my feet, but regretted it when a string of pain shot though my back. I hunched over and steadied myself and my breathing for a while. Even though I was in pain, I would rather take it than sit on a ground that looked as if it was used for some sort of abnormal ritual.

I stood straight and began walking around, but found that I had to limp to get around. I slowly examined the remainder of the room, silently wondering what was taking Holmes and Watson so long to get down here. I saw a table in the middle of the room, and walked up to examine it. I couldn't help but think that in an odd and sick way, this room somewhat resembled that of a chapel or a church. It seemed as if this was supposed to be a place of worship.

The table was made of a hard stone, marble I think. I placed my hand on it and leaned in to see the writing that was etched into the table. It was hard to see, but it looked as if it was written in Latin. I was unable to identify what it said, but I was able to see the blood (or at least what I assumed, and was pretty sure was blood) that was lodged into the cracks into the table. I quickly backed away from the table, confused as to why I didn't see the blood before.

I paused as I felt something pasty and sticky on my palms and my fingertips and I hurriedly wiped it onto my shirt, not wanting to look at a pair of blood stained hands that I would know belonged to me.

"Oh God, what are taking you two so long?" I whispered to no one. My heart was pounding just from being in this room. I didn't have any idea what went on in here, and I wasn't sure if my mind wanted me to figure it out. I limped around the room, trying to find an exit. There had to be one. Clearly someone spends time down here, and they didn't just fall through the steps anytime they wanted to pop in.

My eyes caught something behind the marble table, and I walked around to inspect it. There were many thinks that were on the wooden stool. A small book was open, and by skimming through it, I could tell that it was in Latin as well. Among the other items on the table, I saw a few feathers, a bone of some animal, what looked like a human toe, a strange looking dagger, and a small coin.

'_Could this be the medallion?'_ I thought as I looked at it more closely. It was gold and had a lot of intricate designs on it. It was a bit worn and old, and it looked as if it belonged in a museum.

My head darted to my right as I heard a dish clatter on the floor. I pocketed the medallion and, unconsciously, the dagger as well and began towards the opposite direction that I heard the noise come from. However, before I was able to get very far, I tripped over something and fell on my stomach. I arched myself up and cradled my stomach. I was sure to have bruises all over my body when I got back to Baker's Street.

I started picking myself up off the ground, but paused when I felt something strange underneath me. My heart started beating out of control now as I felt something sickening underneath me. It was cold and hard, but still had a bit of softness to it.

Skin.

Flesh.

Human Flesh.

Before I knew it, I found my back to the opposite side of the room and my feet kicking against the floor, trying to get as far away from the dead body as possible. My hands covered my mouth and I kept my eyes tightly shut. I didn't know what else to do. Maybe it had only been a few minutes, but it felt as if Holmes and Watson were taking days to get down here. I slowly opened my eyes and cast a glance towards the dead body, and I had to avert my eyes as quick as possible. The place was beginning to look like a butcher house more and more every passing second.

I saw something move from the corner of my eye and looked over. There was a rather large rat at the corner of the room, but it was the large dead body that it was crawling over that caused me to jump up and let out a scream that I couldn't hold in any longer.

"Help! Someone Help Me!" I shouted, thinking that the two would find me faster. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the biggest mistake I could have made. I spun around as I heard something moving from the wall opposite me. The stone wall, which I had thought was just a regular wall, was opening. It cast a bright light into the room and made it significantly easier to see. My breath became more labored with every passing second.

I watched as two men came from behind the wall, one armed with a pistol while the other had a knife in his possession. The two slowly walked into the room until each of them were on the opposite side of me. The position in which we were all standing formed a large triangle.

"So…" the one with the pistol began in a rather thick Russian accent, "what is excuse for being in here? Wait! Let me guess!" he chucked deeply. "You were at wrong place at wrong time?"

'_Oh God, Oh God, Oh God… where are you two?'_

"So what do you think happens now? Beautiful woman meets very tragic death? Huh?"

I jumped at the sudden outburst and subconsciously pulled myself closer to the stone wall. He said something to the second man, but it was in Russian, so I had no idea what he had said. However, I wasn't prepared for his partner in crime to run towards me full charge. This wasn't the time to panic. I had to act fast.

Right before his knife came I contact with my chest, I side stepped and allowed him to hit the wall. I quickly grabbed his hand and gave it a good, hard twist, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream and drop the knife. While he was down, I quickly turned him around and forced my knee into his stomach.

How he even got so close, I have no idea, but the first Russian had managed to spin me around, grab me by the hair and throw me onto the ground.

"You're very feisty one, aren't you?" he chuckled as I tried to scurry up off the ground. As I stood up, I felt him grab onto my waist. At first I tried to pry his hands off, but I eventually started to kick and punch in every direction. Once I could form a clear thought in my head, I successfully kicked him in the shin, causing him to loosen his grip on me. I quickly pushed him away, then elbowed him hard in the stomach.

"Duck!" I heard Holmes's voice shout, and I was immediately on the ground, covering my head as I heard gunshots fly through the room. I hurriedly crawled over to where I could see Holmes's black loafers and stood behind him on my limp leg.

"Good God, what took you two so long?" I breathed from behind the two that stood upright, revolvers pointed ahead of them. I finally looked ahead when I saw the Russian clutching at his now injured arm and his partner in the corner of the room, lying on the floor, clutching his leg and arm.

"We apologize for taking so long, but the room was increasingly difficult to locate," Holmes replied.

"It was hidden behind a secret wall. Ironically, your scream is what made us find you in time," Watson added, glancing my way.

Our little exchange was interrupted by the manic laughter of one of the Russian men. His back was arched over and it looked as if he was convulsing on the ground. "Goddamn you… you bastard detective," he shouted in between laughs.

"So you know of me?" Holmes asked.

"Who.. In this whole wide world does not know of great Sherlock Holmes?"

"Well them you must know that you'll be sentenced and hanged for murder," Watson stated.

"What makes you think I kill these people? This was not my doing," the Russian smirked.

"Then you'll be hanged for attempted murder," he replied, quickly gesturing to me. "Either way, you lose."

Strange enough, the Russian began laughing once more. "I never lose, Detective. In the end, it is you who will lose. The dark lord shall return," he chuckled, slowly picking his gun up off the floor. Both Holmes and Watson became more alert as he picked up the gun. They moved in front of me protectively and watched as the Russian slowly raised the gun. What surprised the three of us, however, was when he placed the gun to the side of his head, ready to pull the trigger.

"Wait? Do you even know what you're doing?" I shouted, unaware of how fast my heart was beating at this point.

"Just wait a minute, alright?" Watson warned the delusional man. He responded by once again by bursting out in a fit of laughter.

Everything else happened extremely fast after that. I heard the Russian shout something in his first language. Someone tried to rush and stop him, I'm not sure who. The sound of the gunshot pierced the air, freezing me in my place. I couldn't move. The eerie sound stayed in my ears for the entire time. I watched as the Russian's lifeless body fell to the ground, a pool of blood collecting where his head lay. I felt someone grab me and turn me away from the scene. I think it was Watson. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. All that kept replaying in my mind was that gruesome scene.

"Watson?"

"Yes?" he asked from where he stood, holding onto my slightly trembling body.

"Get the Inspector."

~.~.~

"Well, whoever did this was desperately in need of some medical attention," Lestrade stated as he inspected the area.

"I think whoever did this was desperately in need of a hanging," Holmes retorted.

"So what do we do now? It's pretty obvious that Daniels is involved with whatever this is," Watson stated.

"Easy. We wait for him to get back and we arrest him. It's as simple as that."

"I have no doubt about that. But this seems like much more than just a couple of murders. There seems to be some underlying motive involved in all of this, and quite frankly, I have no idea what it is."

"Simple. This seems to be a copycat of some sort. The pentagram on all sides of the wall, the apparent human sacrifices. It all seems to be someone trying to bring black magic back into London. That's all I see here," Holmes explained, gesturing to the room.

"So what? We just wait until Daniels returns home and apprehend him when he does?"

"Yes. I'm sure you can do that Inspector. Keep me updated," he said as he turned around to head outside.

"Holmes!"

He turned back around and faced Watson, who quickly approached him. "Look, I have to stay here for a while and deal with this, so I'm asking you to check on Rosemary. I highly doubt that she's experienced anything like that before in her life, and she looked really shaken up about it-"

"As any woman would be," Holmes interjected.

"Look," he warned, "She's in a state of shock, which is natural for _anyone_. So I'm asking you to at least try and make her feel better. I already treated her ankle, and I'll be by tomorrow to make sure she's alright. Mentally, I mean." Holmes gave a quick nod before turning around to leave.

~.~.~

Holmes and Watson had called Inspector Lestrade in, and he and his men had went inside to asses the problem within. After Watson had treated my sprained ankle, he suggested that I go outside and leave the officers to do the work. Without any reluctance, I went outside and sat on the doorstep.

Of all the things I thought I would experience with Holmes and Watson, I never thought I would experience half the things I saw tonight. I assumed that we would just find a stolen coin. How wrong I was. Instead, I found what could only be called a torture chamber. Dead bodies, blood stained table. The thought just made me sick to my stomach. I'm half surprised that I kept my food in this long.

I jumped as I heard the front door of the house open, but relaxed when I saw Holmes emerge. "Watson has some business to take care of, so he's instructed us to go on ahead."

I nodded and quickly stood up, ready to leave this hellish place. I limped towards the coach as Sherlock walked beside me. It was a semi-long walk from the house to the coach, and he did ask a few times if I needed any help walking, but I declined up until the very end when I tripped and stumbled a bit. While we both wobbled there, I made as much mental notes as I could. Holmes was taller than me, but not as tall as Watson. He wasn't too much shorter than Watson, though. I also noted that he had an unusual scent to him. He didn't smell bad, but he had his own signature scent. It was very spicy, and pipe tobacco and smoke was evident. It was all a very natural scent.

I inwardly laughed at myself because of how distraught I was at the moment. I was basically identifying how Holmes smelt, and it was all because I was willing to think of anything other than what I experienced in this house tonight. We eventually made it to the coach, and one of the police from Scotland Yard took us back to Baker Street. Despite the awkward silence, the ride back was cordial enough. When we got back, he helped me up the stairs and into my room before retreating into his own.

"I think you'll be okay for the rest of the night."

I nodded, not really paying attention to anything.

"Look, about tonight-"

"I don't want to talk about it," I replied immediately.

"Regardless, you shouldn't have witnessed any of it."

"Well, unfortunately, as much as I want it to, it's not just going to disappear from my mind," I replied.

"Yes, well…. Pleasant dreams," he said before leaving my room and closing the door behind him.

I laughed a bit at his statement. _'I seriously don't think so.'_

*****Oh my gosh! I seriously don't know why this is so late. I think I lost sight of time for a while. I apologize for that. However, I have started the next chapter and that will be out a lot sooner.**

**I'd like to thank all of you that reviewed and messaged and added me to your alert list and favorite list. All I ask is that you keep them coming people. Reviews make me smile! And even if you have a comment or opinion or idea or criticism, sent them in. I read everything and take it all into consideration.**

**Tata for now,**

**PoisonLipz**


	6. New Finds, New Developments

The weather in London was particularly bleary today. Due to the rain that had fallen the previous morning, a thick fog had cast itself all over the town. It wasn't impossible to see where you were going or what you were doing, but it did obstruct people's view. While it may have seemed eerie and chilling to most, the weather made London seem more peaceful and serene. There were few people on the road and the streets were clear of the pickpockets and scum that usually walked the streets during this time.

Sherlock Holmes walked down the foggy streets towards the local pub that was located in Ludgate Hill. With his coat wrapped around his body to shield him from the chilly air and his bowler hat atop his head, he silently observed the small amount of people who walked the street while going over the contents of the letter he read earlier that week.

_Sherlock Holmes,_

_ I am contacting you today because I am in dire need of your help. For my safety and for your own, I am not going to divulge my name. However, I would like to arrange a meeting with you. If you can, please meet me at the Red Lion Pub in the center of Ludgate Hill this Thursday at 10:00 AM. I will be sitting in the very back. I hope that you will meet me._

After observing the sharp edges of the letters and the slightly messy handwriting, Holmes was able to deduce that the person was definitely male. It was an easy deduction to make. Usually, the typical handwriting of women was very neat and precise, whereas men's handwriting was very sharp, but sloppy. Women also prefer to write in cursive while men particularly wrote in print. Holmes found it amazing at how one could tell so much from the tiniest details. Too bad most people were not intelligent enough or analytical enough to figure those details out.

When he finally arrived at the pub, Holmes was a bit surprised at how respectable the area and the establishment was. It looked as if it was a small restaurant rather than a pub. Upon walking inside, Holmes quickly noticed the strong scent of whiskey and tobacco smoke that was lingering in the air. The place was very dimly lit and very quiet. There were very few people inside seeing as how it was still pretty early in the morning. A couple of people sat at the bar while other people were scattered around at different tables.

His eyes quickly found the back of the bar, and found the very last table empty.

'_Interesting. For someone who seemed to have wanted to see me so desperately, I would have expected them to be on time,' _he thought as he walked to the back. _'Or maybe this is just another precaution to make sure no one else has accompanied me and he is in fact already inside. Yes, that would seem more logical.'_

Holmes sat in the empty seat and took off his hat, placing it on the table. He sat comfortably in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. If he was correct, this person would be approaching him in five, 4, 3, 2, 1...

"Sherlock Holmes?"

'_Right on time.' _Sherlock turned around and faced the direction of the voice. His first thought was that he was correct about his assumption of the gender. He was definitely male. As he stood up to greet the man, he noticed that he was a bit taller than himself, probably the same height as Watson was. His eyes were the same color as Watson's were, but a shade lighter, making them look much brighter. His hair, however, was much like Sherlock's, despite the fact that it was a bit longer. it was very dark brown, to the point where it almost looked black.

"Yes," Holmes replied.

"My name is James Sinclair. It's a pleasure to meet you," he greeted as he outstretched his hand. Holmes willingly shook it before speaking again.

"You're American?" he asked, which sounded as more of a sure statement than an actual question.

"Yes. I was born in America, but I've lived here for almost my entire life."

"You've lived here for your entire life, yet you speak without an English accent," Holmes commented.

"I guess just being around my parents and their colleagues so much, the English accent never stuck," he explained.

"I see. Well, we didn't come here to discuss your personal life, so let's get down to business, shall we?" Homes suggested as he took his seat. James nodded and took the seat opposite from him. "Before we begin this, may I ask why you felt you needed to contact me? I mean I'm sure that the British police could have been able to locate a missing person."

"I'm not really sure who I can trust. You're notable for solving the most extremely difficult cases in London."

"Yes, that may be so, but it doesn't mean that you can't trust-"

"It does. I came to you because you were the last person I knew I could ask. I have been putting this missing person's report in the papers since this person has been missing, and someone has been paying off the newspaper editors and publishers to leave it out of the paper."

"So it's a missing person's case is it? Which publication, exactly?"

"It's a lot of different publications around London. The _London Daily, _the _Hillingdon Times, _the _East London Advertiser. _Those are just a few of the many."

Both men stopped talking as a female server approached their table. 'Hello gentlemen. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine," James replied.

"Same here."

"Alright. Well, if you need anything, just let me know," she smiled at both men before walking away.

"And someone has bribed them to keep the name of the missing person from being published?" Holmes continued, unfazed.

"Yes."

"How long have they been missing?"

"A little over a month."

"And who is this person? Do you have a picture or any sort of information on them?"

"Yes. I have a couple of pictures and other things. Her name is Rosemary McClaire."

Upon hearing the name, Holmes's interest was immediately piqued. _'Well, this is an interesting turn of events. So, someone has been keeping her name out of the papers.' _"May I ask what is your relation to the victim? Are you her husband, or…"

"No," he smiled a bit. "I'm just a very close friend of hers. Our families have known each other since I moved here."

"Has her other family members made efforts to alert London of her disappearance, or is this just your doing?"

"It was her father and I who decided to do it, but as you know, that was a lost cause."

"Yes, it would appear so. And her mother didn't suggest it as well?"

"No. Well, it's her stepmother, actually. She and her stepson said that letting the public know of her disappearance would cause a public uproar," he said as he handed Holmes the pictures he had.

He looked at the pictures that James had given him. The first one showed Rose holding a small baby girl in her hands as she sat on her bed. He could safely assume that this was her baby sister seeing as how he could not recall seeing a ring or the leftover mark of a ring on her finger. The second showed a much older girl, probably at the age of three, smiling as she and Rose were in the kitchen preparing something together. The last picture was of James and Rose. It looked as if they were at a carnival or circus of some sort. Her hair was blowing in the wind a bit and her eyes looked bright as she smiled into the camera. Yes, this was definitely Rosemary.

"You said that her disappearance would cause a public uproar. Why do you think that?" Holmes asked, looking up from the pictures that were in his hand.

"Her ancestors are one of the founders of Greenwich. The mansion she lives in is known as the Greenwich Estate. Generations of her family members have lived in that house. But I just think that's an excuse made to not bring her back."

"Why do you say that?"

"Rose and her stepmother have never gotten along. And her step mom isn't in her Father's will. If anything happens to her father, Rose will get everything, and her stepmother and stepbrother will leave with nothing.

"I see. Well, it just goes to show you that money is the root of all evil," Holmes joked. _'No, it can't just be an issue over her father's will, could it? No, that seems way too simple. There must be something deeper.'_

"I suppose," James agreed. "Here. I was able to retrieve her journal. Maybe you can find something useful in it," he said as he reached in his bad and handed Holmes the lavender leather bound book. He looked it over a bit, noticing that the side was a little worn.

"You didn't read it?"

"I didn't want to. I didn't even want to give it to you, but I figured that you could use all the help you can get."

Holmes grunted in response, quickly skimming through the pages before he slid the pictures inside and set it down on the table. "I'm assuming that Miss McClaire's father is the only one who knows that you've done this?"

"No, he doesn't know yet."

"Well, I suggest that you don't tell him."

"James raised his eyes at this. "I assure you, he can be trusted." 

"I have no doubt in that. However, I would like to keep this whole thing quiet for now. You can't risk letting this information slip. Also, I'm not yet sure if the step mother and step brother can be trusted. They are not her immediate family, so foul play cannot be eliminated just yet," Holmes explained.

"Yes, I suppose. I wouldn't think them to be the kind of people to do something like this."

"Yes, well… as you said earlier, it has been over a month since her disappearance. At this stage and time, no one can be trusted."

"Look, I don't want this to get blown out of proportion or anything like that. I just want to find her."

"Of course. I understand. Is there anything else I need to know?" Sherlock asked as he got up to leave.

"No, that's all."

"Alright then. I have your address, and I'll be sure to contact you if anything develops."

"Thank you, Mister Holmes," James nodded as he shook his hand once more. Holmes gave a curt nod before he exited the pub.

'_This is quite the turn of events. But the question is, can he be trusted? He could be Rosemary's previous assailant, and he is trying to finish the job. That's unlikely, however. There seemed to be genuine concern there. Regardless, this has indeed given me a vast amount of valuable information to work with. Yes, this is most engaging, indeed.'_

**Hey guys,**

**I wanted to post this a lot earlier, but I have had a virus on my laptop since last Monday night. I have no idea how it got on, and I can't fix it until I get something to fix it. I'm posting this from my sister's annoyingly huge laptop, which I hate because it has a different version of Microsoft Word, and it messed up the format and everything. This chapter was supposed to be a page or so longer, as a matter of fact, but it's just really complicated for me. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I'll try to get it up as soon as possible.**

**Anywho, thanks to those of you who reviewed and everything else. There was a lot of new information in this chapter, and no Rose! I'm thinking of doing the next chapter like this, but I'm not sure yet. It's still making me a bit sad with the little reviews I've been getting. Come on people, don't be shy! Send them in, I won't bite! I love hearing your opinions, I really do, so keep the reviews comin'!**

**Sincerely,**

**PoisonLipz**

_**P.S.: I have a lot of links on my profile page of the things that have been mentioned in the story so far. The newest addition to my collection of links will be a picture of James, and I'm pretty sure you'll all be happy when you find out who it is, seeing as how he will be an important addition to the story!**_


	7. Life, Love & The Pursuit Of Dreams

I sat perched on a wooden stool in the kitchen, letting my mind wander carelessly.

'_I wonder how many family members I have. Do I only have Charlotte? No, no. In that dream I had, that guy, whatever his name was, said something about me having a stepbrother. Stepbrother… so then what happened to my Mother? Or is it the other way around? Do I have a stepfather instead of a stepmother? Is Charlotte my biological sister or my stepsister? Was I ever married? Am I married now? Oh my goodness, what if the day I was attacked was the day before I was set to be married, and my Fiancé is at his wits end and has no idea of how to find me?_

…

_Alright, maybe that is a little extreme, but still, there are so many questions that I want answered… I wonder what Watson's doing. It must be nice having someone to go home to every night. I would like to meet this Mary person. He seems to really love her. Where is Holmes? I haven't seen much of him all day. He's probably working on that investigation with Watson… what happened to the Russian man's partner? I wonder if he told them about what was found… the bodies and the… I have to stop thinking about that. Jesus Christ, I hate this. I've never felt so terrible before in my entire life. Well maybe I have, but I can't even remember that far which only adds to the frustration that I feel. I can't think like that, though. I have to look at the positive. I'm healthy and alive, which is much more than I can say for some other people… right?_

I picked up my head from the table as I felt something soft push against my elbow. I sat completely upright and pulled the tiny ball of fuss into my palms. "I'm sorry Patches, I didn't mean to ignore you. What it is? Do you want some milk?" I cooed. I smiled as it responded with an enthusiastic 'meow.'

_~.~.~.~_

"_You're back… finally," Watson greeted without looking up from his work as Holmes returned to his home on Baker Street._

"_Didn't know you were waiting for me, darling," Holmes joked._

"_Very funny. Where were you?"_

"_Where's Rosemary?"_

"_She's over there on the chaise. I was finally able to get her to rest."_

"_You put her to sleep in the middle of the day?" Holmes asked. His eyes darted on the floor next to Rose, where he could see something small walking underneath her._

"_Why is there a cat in my room?" he asked before Watson could answer his first question._

"_She brought it back with her after she went for a walk."_

"_And you let her bring it in here?"_

"_You're lucky she's asleep. She'd be arguing with you by now just for calling him 'it.' I wasn't going to tell her no, and if you had seen her face, you wouldn't have said so either."_

"_Why? What's wrong with her?"_

"_Still the incident at Daniel's estate, I'm afraid. It seems to have taken a bigger toll on her than I had expected. I surely thought she would bounce back in a day or so. Physically, her back almost healed, and her ankle is already useable again. Mentally and emotionally, it's going to take a while. The first two nights, she said she suffered from horrible nightmares. So now she's just not sleeping at all. It's been almost two weeks, and she has only gotten about thirty hours of sleep. I managed to slip some hypnotics into her drink. She should be out for a while."_

_~.~.~.~_

I walked over to the icebox and pulled out the bottle of milk. Grabbing a tiny dish, I poured some inside and placed it on the table for the kitten. I then walked to the oven and opened the door, checking on the bread that I had baking. Putting on the oven gloves, I pulled out the dish a bit to see if it was ready. After sticking the knife in the middle and seeing that it was well cooked, I pulled the bread out and placed it on the tabletop.

"Doesn't that smell good, Patches?" I smiled as I looked over my handiwork. I grabbed two other trays that were sitting on the counter and placed them in the oven. After closing the door, I took my seat back at the stool. Folding my arms on the table, I rested my head in the middle and watched as Patches drank his milk. I could feel my eyes slowly closing, giving in to the rest that my body desperately needed. I heard Patches 'meow,' and I quickly picked my head up from the table.

'_Alright, what's going to keep me awake? A book, maybe?' _I asked myself as I rubbed my eyes. My thoughts, however, were interrupted as I heard someone come in through the door. I turned in my seat to face the entrance of the kitchen. Staring at the door, I watched as Sherlock passed by the door. Seeing as how it was someone I knew, I turned back around in my seat and placed my chin in my palms. _'A book will probably just make me more tired, right?' _

"Huh. It seems as though I have not returned to Baker Street, but instead I have stumbled upon an Italian bakery," I heard Holmes say as he entered the kitchen.

I turned around to face him and crossed my arms over my chest. "You know, be happy that I'm making these, alright? A lot of hard work and care went into making these things and I don't appreciate-"

"Whoa. Easy, alright? It was just a joke. I didn't mean to upset you or anything," he stated, holding his hands up in defense.

I watched him carefully before turning back around. "I'm sorry. It's just… nothing. Forget it. I apologize."

I heard him grunt in understanding. He slowly entered the kitchen and took the seat across from me. He took his hat off his head and placed it on the table next to Patches.

"So… how do you know these recipes? I'm quite certain that Mrs. Hudson has never made these before," he said as he looked around the room at the many dishes and plates that were filled with various baked goods.

"I , uh… I just remembered them today, actually. About five hours ago to be exact. I was afraid that I was going to forget them, so I just started mixing up all the batters and dough. Now I have to bake them all or else they're going to spoil."

"I see. So, these are things that you used to do before…"

"I'm not really sure. They most likely are."

"Ah. Mind if I try one?"

"You can try one of everything if you like. There'll still be plenty left over," I said. He nodded, then stood up and walked towards all the baked goods.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"Why aren't you?" I retorted.

"I…" he began, grabbing one of the Pignoli cookies, "was out. Needed a bit of mind exercise."

"So where were you?"

"Boxing," he mumbled as he ate the cookie.

"You box?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes. Why is that such a surprise to you?" he asked defensively as he turned around to face me.

"I'm not surprised. You… just don't look like the type who would box, is all," I replied, petting Patches' head.

"Boxing is very stimulating for the mind. Just as much as it is for the body. By watching your opponent's movements and attacks, it works the mind and keeps the brain working and my mind on track."

"That's an interesting perspective. It's certainly one I've never heard before."

"I would think so. Many people are under the belief that boxing is a battle that is based solely on size and strength when it so happens to be based on the complete opposite: the mind."

"That may be true, but you still need some sort of muscles on your body. Not a lot, but you do need some meat on your bones."

"I disagree."

"I thought you would. Look at it this way… a stick and a rock are fighting, and even though the stick is very thin and can move around easily, the rock is stronger and heavier. All the rock has to do is sit on the stick and it'll break in half."

"That's not very rational. A rock and a twig are unable to move on their own, let alone fight each other-"

"Alright. Clearly, I didn't mean that literally. I know that a twig and a rock can't move," I replied, annoyed.

"Then why make up something so foolish in the first place? I mean-"

"So you were out boxing all day?" I interrupted him quickly, agitated my his smug demeanor.

"No, of course not."

"Then where were you? I haven't seen you all day today."

_~.~.~.~_

"_You still haven't answered my question. Where were you?"_

_Holmes glanced at Rosemary, who was facing their direction. "Are you sure she's out cold?"_

"_Yes. Why? What's wrong?" Watson asked._

_Holmes took a seat next to Watson on one of the armchair that was close by. "Today, I had a meeting with an anonymous person who said they needed my help finding someone who has been missing for a while. When I asked him for details on the person," he paused to reach into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a lavender leather bound book, "he gave me this," he finished, handing the book to Watson._

_Watson furrowed his brow as he open the book, revealing the pictures that were inside. Upon careful examination, his eyes went wide as he realized who it was that were in the pictures._

"_Rosemary?" he said in a hushed tone._

"_Precisely."_

"_Who was it that gave these to you?"_

"_A man named James Sinclair. He said that he has known Rosemary since they were little. He's in that picture right there," Holmes said, pointing to the picture that contained both Rose and James._

"_She looks happy in these. Much happier than I've ever seen her since she's been here."_

"_He said that he's been putting news about her disappearance in London ever since she went missing, and someone has paid off all the publishers so that her name can be kept out of the papers. Rose's father is the only one who knows of our meeting. He says that he thinks her stepmother is trying to do it so that she can gain Rose's father's inheritance, but that seems quite unlikely."_

"_Because if that was the case, Rose's father would have been dead already. She wouldn't have waited this long."_

"_Exactly. I think I underestimate you Watson. You have the workings of a great detective. Not as good as me of course."_

"_So you congratulate my intellect by insulting me at the same time? I'm so flattered."_

"_No problem at all old chap. Anyway, he gave me her journal, so maybe I could find some information from there."_

"_I don't understand. Why go through so much just to eliminate one woman?"_

"_That is what I hope to figure out. Maybe her last entries will reveal something important."_

"_I see. He said that they're childhood friends?"_

"_So he says. I'm not exactly sure if he could be trusted just yet."_

"_So you didn't tell him that she was with us?"_

"_No."_

"_You're going to tell her though, aren't you?"_

"_Of course not. Why would I do that?" Holmes asked incredulously._

"_Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it involves her? And it will do some good for her to know that people actually care about her and are actually making an effort to find her? I mean, what do you hope to accomplish by keeping this from her?"_

"_Keep her protected and safe. Do my job. Find the culprit, then let her go back to the treasured life that she once lived. She'll find out when the time is right."_

"_She's going to find out on her own accord, and she's going to lash out at you for not telling her sooner. I'll have the satisfaction of saying 'I told you so' when it all blows up in your face."_

"_That won't happen because she won't find out."_

_~.~.~.~_

"I had some business to attend to with Lestrade."

"Oh. About the case?"

"Yes."

I nodded my head, hoping that he wouldn't elaborate on the case too much. That was the very last thing I wanted to think about.

"Why aren't you asleep? People don't normally bake at a quarter to three in the night."

"I'm not tired. I had a really long nap today, and I won't be able to go back to sleep."

"Well have you tried?"

I swallowed and rubbed my eyes. "No… and I don't really want to," I said, muttering the last part quietly to myself.

"Why is that, Miss McClaire?"

"Because… I have to finish baking these first."

"I'm sure if you placed the mixtures into the icebox, they'll last till tomorrow."

I shrugged my shoulders. He was right. Obviously, I could have stored everything away and finish baking it all tomorrow, but I was afraid to shut my eyes. Because every time I did, those nightmares would come back. I didn't want to return to that place, and if I don't go to sleep, then I won't have to.

"Would you like something to drink?"

_~.~.~.~_

"_I need to make sure she is getting the proper rest she needs. When I'm not here, I want you to put five drops of these in a drink and give it to her. Make sure you only put five and no more than that. I wouldn't want her to die from an accidental overdose," Watson explained as he handed Holmes the clear vial._

"_Well what do I do if she doesn't drink anything? Pour it down her throat?" Holmes joked._

"_Always ask if she wants anything to drink. If she says no, pour out something and just place it in front of her. She'll take a sip eventually. She'll slowly start to fall asleep within minutes, so if she isn't in her bedroom, make sure she gets to bed. Just talk to her while the hypnotics stark kicking in."_

_~.~.~.~_

"Umm… some water, please," I replied as I watched Patches try to make his way on top of Sherlock's hat.

"I talked to Watson today…" he spoke as he grabbed two cups from behind me, "and he said that you've been able to recall a few of your memories."

"Yes. Most of them come in dreams, actually. It's like after I have the dreams, when I wake up, I remember my dreams and some of my memories come back while I'm awake. It only happens when I rest, though. Thank you," I said as he handed me my cup. I took a long gulp as he returned to his seat.

"Well, what have you remembered?"

"Umm… most of them are about people that I don't know too well, but I haven't had too many about my family, even though I really want to."

"Why is that?"

"Because I want to know if my Mother is alive. I hope she is, but I feel like she's not."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because so far, I've seen my dad, and I have a little step sister and a step brother, and a puppy. I haven't seen my Mom, or any mother figure for that matter. And then there was one dream where I walked into a room, and there was a large frame on the wall… and there was a painting of a woman… and she looks like me a bit. I think so, at least."

"Maybe it's… someone else."

"Or maybe my mom is dead," I smiled wryly. I heard him make a little noise, and I looked up to see him looking down into his cup. "I'm sorry. It's amazing how I can change the atmosphere in the room so quickly. A pessimist, that's what I'm being. I went from baking to boxing to death in a split second…" I sighed, feeling weak and worn. I placed my arms on the table, resting my head against it and closing my eyes.

"If that is the case…" Holmes started, causing me to look back at him, "you shouldn't worry too much. Death is a natural part of life. You mustn't dwell on the pain that you feel, but instead give thanks for the fact that you have other people in your life who care for you and love you… your family and friends."

"Are your parents alive? Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked as I took another sip of water.

"A brother. Mycroft is his name. He's a functionary."

"Older or younger?"

"He's my elder by seven years."

"Does that mean he's smarter than you?" I joked.

"Yes, his intellect surpasses my own quite a bit. He could have made a great detective. But he lacks the drive and determination I have, which makes it a complete waste. He would rather spend his days lounging around gentleman's clubs with the rest of London's ignorant, narcissist male population."

"But… you're a bit of a narcissist too," I replied groggily.

"How do you figure?"

"I mean… you're a special case. Other people are considered narcissist because they're rich and have a higher status than others. They're conceited and very vain. You… on the other hand," I paused to let out a yawn, "you're really smart. Smarter than most, and you assert your smartness when you need to, which is most of the time. And in the process, you make people feel inferior to your intellectual prowess."

I heard him chuckle, but I didn't have the energy to look back up.

_~.~.~.~_

"Well, Miss McClaire, all I can say to that is… your statement is quite accurate."

He waited for her to respond, but she said nothing in return. He looked back to her and found her fast asleep on the table.

"Never underestimate the great John Watson," he mumbled as he stood up. He took the two trays out of the oven and placed them next to the rest of the baked goods and he placed everything else in the icebox.

"Now there's just the task of getting you upstairs," he said as he crossed his arms, leaning against the countertop. He watched as her cat tried nudging her awake, but was unsuccessful. Letting out a quick sigh, he walked over to her and carefully lifted her off the stool, securing her in his arms before turning towards the stairs.

He stopped when he heard her cat meow. Turning back around, he watched as it lingered at the corner of the table, seemingly scared to hop off. Letting out a sigh, he walked back over and lowered his arms. He watched as it hopped on his arm then crawl into Rosemary's lap.

"You're just lucky she likes you," he said as he proceeded towards the staircase. He walked slowly and carefully, making sure not to make any sudden movements or noises that would cause her to wake up.

When he got to her bedroom, he waited for the cat to jump off her lap before quickly placing her on her bed. He pulled off her socks as well as the sweater she had over her shirt. He carefully positioned her upright and covered her with her blanket and comforter. Before laying her head on the pillow, he pulled out the few pins that were in her hair, letting her black tresses fall freely around her shoulders.

He placed her head on the pillow, watching as her white kitten tried to place himself securely under her arms. He was watching the cat, but his attention was mostly focused on her. He couldn't help but think about how complex she was. She's smart, that was certain. She's brash, impulsive, and irritating, to say the least. She selfless as well, he could already tell that much. And she was an immensely determined person. She's willing to starve herself of sleep in order to block away the terrifying memories she holds. That is one thing that he regrets happening to her. He wished that she didn't have to see what she saw that day. It was too much for her to take in all at once. She's not used to such things, and she shouldn't have had to experience any of that. She's too good.

Sherlock shook himself from his thoughts and made his way out of her room. "Pleasant dreams," he muttered before closing her bedroom door.

He began making his way towards his bedroom door when he heard footsteps running up the stairs. He turned around and saw the Constable panting heavily as he headed towards him.

"What's wrong now, Clarkey?" he asked.

"Sorry to disturb you at this hour, Mister Holmes, but Inspector Lestrade has asked for your assistance at once."

"Why? What's happened."

"We got a call in from Dagenham. Edgar Daniels is dead."

_**AN: Damn! I was working overtime to get this chapter out. Still haven't gotten to fixing my laptop, so had to do this on my PC. Anywho, thanks for the reviews and the messages, because despite what some of you may think, your words mean a lot and they are my inspiration to keeping this story alive.**_

_**I was kinda iffy about this one, but it grew on me and I liked how it turned out. Tell me what you think about it.**_

_**That's it for today. This is me… signing off at… 2:30 AM.**_

_**PoisonLipz**_


	8. Chapter 8

This is more than likely going to be a disappointment to you all cause I know you're probably expecting a new chapter. It's not. Sorry.

This is me writing to tell you guys that I have not abandoned this story. In between my school life and my home life, things have been crazy. I haven't had a lot of free time to myself, but I'm slowly getting it all back.

I am going to continue the story, but I'm restarting the entire thing. After seeing Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, I got a lot of different ideas. Also, seeing as how it's been so long since I've even updated, I barely remember the plotline of this story. (I also looked it all over again, and I think my writing skills have changed greatly since I started Illogical)

So, if you're interested, I have already put out the first chapter under a new username. It's called _**Illogical Reasoning**_ and the username is ArtisticRain. So if you want to, go check it out.

I'm sorry for the people that wanted me to continue this story. I just feel like I wouldn't be putting in my best work if I continued rather than just started fresh.

I hope you guys understand (and can find it in your heart to forgive me) and I hope you give the newer version a try.

Sincerely, PoisonLipz


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